Beyond The Farthest Star Version 2
by andrewjameswilliams
Summary: AU season one and beyond. The crash of a Klingon scout ship leads to the crew of the Enterprise to begin the journey and adventure of a lifetime.
1. Chapter 1

_**Star Trek Enterprise: Beyond The Farthest Star**_

Authors Notes: This is a repost and continuation of Beyond The Farthest Star, though I have also taken the opportunity to make some small changes here and there, mostly cosmetic, to address problems that cropped up the first time. I'll be posting the rest as I finish making any changes each chapter needs.

This story is set in an alternative star trek universe to the canon show. In this story, I'm using some of the characters and events in the novel Federation by Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens than the canonical timeline established by First Contact. It also includes a number of my own ideas and thoughts as well. I am also employing some of the ideas originally conceived for Enterprise but which never made it into the show. I am also ditching that ridiculous Temporal Cold War thing as it never really made sense to me, instead the Suliban will have other motives for doing what they do as will be seen as the story goes on.

One thing I am going to try and do with this story is have Starfleet act more like a proper space navy with exploration duties as part of its mandate instead of a force that doesn't really think of itself as being a part of the military. All in all my goal with this story is to show a more independent, more realistic humanity than the space hippy future we are regularly exposed to in Star Trek, while I do like that possible view of the future I think its time to try something a little different. I hope no one minds.

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

Klaang's hearts thumped in his chest and he could hear the pounding of his pulse in his ears as he ran with the speed of a frightened targ through the fields of this unknown alien planet that he'd crash landed on a few minutes ago. It was exhausting to run continuously especially as there seemed to be marginally less oxygen in the atmosphere of this planet than there was on Qo'nos, not to mention vaguely dishonourable as he would rather stand and face his enemies in true Klingon fashion. But he had no choice. Not if he wanted to live long enough to get the information he carried back to the Chancellor so he could prevent the Klingon Empire from tearing itself apart in a civil war – a horror that had not happened since the Klingon species mastered spaceflight and found new worlds, new species to test there mettle against.

Oh, there were always competitions between the various houses and castes of Klingons – tests of strength and dominance as that was the Klingon way. Blood feuds and small honour wars between houses and castes were common but it had been centuries since the last all out civil war, not since the death of the last Emperor and formation of the High Council and the Chancellorship had such a war occurred. But now it was a very dangerous possibility, instigated by outside forces in the form of the Suliban using the Klingons own natural aggressive tendencies and need to dominate against them and thus threatening civil war. Klaang would surely be damned to spend eternity among the dishonoured dead in Gre'Thor if he failed to complete his mission, a mission that could prevent such a catastrophe from befalling the Klingon people.

Unfortunately for Klaang completing his mission had just gotten a whole lot more difficult. The damage the Suliban had inflicted upon his ship as they chased him deeper and deeper into the unexplored regions beyond the Vulcan Confederation and Andorian Empire had forced him down here. The K'toch-class scoutship he'd been piloting was so badly damaged now by the crash that it would never fly again. He would somehow have to acquire a starship from the unknown denizens of this equally unknown world. He knew they were a warp capable species the sensors on his ship had confirmed the presence of warp ships in orbit before the crash – which in itself would not be easy. Especially as he had no idea what species it was that lived on this world, what their physical capabilities were or how advanced their technology was.

The high pitched screech of a disruptor beam cutting through the air reminded him of his more immediate problem. He dodged to the side just as another bluish-green beam cut through the air, passing within centimetres of where his head had just been, so close that he could feel the heat of the beam on his skin and smell the ionisation trail left in the air by the passage of the intense stream of energy. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he spotted his pursuers closing, though all he could see of them were flashes of their maroon jumpsuits and dimpled yellow skin through the tall green stalks of the alien plants.

Another blast of disruptor fire came his way but only succeeded in striking a nearby stalk, which immediately exploded raining singed vegetation all around. _This is no good I need to get out into the open then I can kill those filthy pa'tach Suliban,_ he thought before recalling how these fields of strange alien crops seemed to go on forever from what he'd seen from the air in the last few seconds before the crash, _if there is an open area anywhere nearby._

More disruptor blasts from the doggedly pursuing Suliban soldiers forced him to pick up his pace despites the protests of his body. Though Klingons were tough and physically powerful, they'd evolved from ambush hunters, thus they were not really built for endurance running like this, and Klaang found his muscles burning with the exertion and felt beads of sweat on his brow. He hoped this ended soon or he would end up collapsing from exhaustion and become easy prey for the Suliban.

Fortunately, for the first time in weeks luck seemed to be on his side as the thick rows of green stalks were thinning out. With startling suddenness, the vegetation gave way to a large open area, in the centre of which stood a large cylindrical structure. There were no windows but Klaang clearly spotted doors recessed into the metal structure, one at the base and another at the top just below where the structures roof began. Though his people didn't use them he recognised the structure for what it was, a food storage facility presumably for the crop being grown in the surrounding fields.

A predatory smile appeared on his face as he realised that he now had the perfect opportunity to turn the tables on his Suliban pursuers. Eagerly he ran up to the structure and opened the lower door before hurrying inside. He was immediately struck by the musty smell in the interior of the tower, the wooden floor was covered with some kind of yellow and brown dust, the air was uncomfortably warm and stuffy and lighting was poor – the only illumination being beams of diffuse sunlight coming from small vents in the ceiling. But it was enough for Klaang to see and thus spot a narrow ladder going up to a narrow platform at the top of the tower. Taking no time to rest the exhausted, bone weary Klingon warrior began ascending to the top level.

He was almost to the platform when the door at the bottom was flung open and the two Suliban soldiers tasked with his final elimination raced into the structure. They immediately began looking for him and spotted him as he got onto the platform, the sound of his boots clanging on the sheet metal surface echoing off the walls. Immediately one Suliban started to raise its disruptor pistol only to be stopped by the other who yelled something in there language before starting up the ladder after Klaang, the other Suliban – looking thoroughly chastised – followed quickly, the aliens climbing up the ladder at very high speed.

Knowing his time was short Klaang flung open the door at the other end of the platform revealing the blue sky and green fields of this planet. Without hesitation, he jumped out and took the landing at the base of the tower on bent knees. Straightening up he moved a few steps away from the structure, drew out his disruptor pistol, and trained it on the structure. With a predatory grin, he pulled the trigger. A single pulse of dense green light emerged from the weapon and flew through the air to strike the tower.

The result was spectacularly satisfying.

The moment the disruptor blast struck the tower it punched through the thin metal wall and dumped its energy into the interior of the structure, an interior that was filled with methane being produced by the bits of organic matter that had not been evacuated from the silo after harvest breaking down. Having built up faster than the small vents at the top could carry it away the unhealthy mixture of methane and air inside the silo only needed a spark to ignite. The coherent energy blast from Klaang's disruptor provided all that and more.

With a thunderous roar the tower exploded as if a bomb had gone off inside it. The thin metal walls shredding like tin foil letting thick smoke and great orange tongues of fire momentarily licked at the atmosphere before the concussive force of the detonation extinguished them. Small bits of metallic debris ripped from the walls by the shockwave rained down around Klaang even as the rest of the silo collapsed into a pile of scorched, smouldering rubble. Satisfaction gripped Klaang and he put his disruptor back in its holster even as he roared in triumph. This particular battle had been won, victory was his; the Suliban soldiers were dead – vaporised by the explosion.

Calming down Klaang stood still looking at the smouldering ruins even as he slowly started to get his breath back. It was at that moment that the crunch of footsteps on the dry soil caught his attention. He spun around – half expecting to face more Suliban as he wouldn't have put it past them to have sent additional soldiers as backup for the first two – instead he found himself face to face with an unknown but annoyed looking alien. The alien was ugly, humanoid like most species and with the familiar arrangements of arms, legs, eyes and ears but its forehead was disgustingly smooth without any of the cranial ridges that were such a prominent feature of Klingon heads, the face seemed quit flat and symmetrical. The alien was dressed in clothing that Klaang didn't recognise and was clutching a sleek, long barrelled weapon.

The alien said something to him in a language that Klaang could not understand and for the first time since the crash Klaang cursed himself for not having grabbed his translator out of the smouldering wreckage of the K'toch. As the alien spoke, it pointed its weapon at him and said something else, presumably demanding that he surrender.

"You dare to threaten a Klingon warrior," Klaang growled angrily tired of being someone else's prey, first the Suliban threatened him and now this alien. He'd had enough, his hand shot to the d'k tahg dagger on his left hip even as the alien said something else in its unknown language, though from the tone it was clearly a warning. Klaang paid it no mind as he brandished the blade and moved to attack the alien.

Only to be physically picked up and thrown backwards – crying out in a mixture of rage, surprise and pain – as the alien fired his/its weapon right into his chest; fired at point blank range the dense pulse of coherent energy instantly burning through his clothing to flay at his skin inflicting the intense, searing pain of a plasma burn. Crashing to the ground with a bone jarring impact Klaang glared at the alien through a reddish haze of agony. He tried to sit up to at least defiantly throw the knife at the creature that had dared to attack him, but he couldn't move, his limbs refusing to acknowledge his minds commands as the massive electromagnetic shock from the plasma attack shot through his nervous system brining with it an increasing surge of pain.

It was too much on top of everything that he had already been through in the last few days and weeks. Klaang glared momentarily at the alien as it came to stand over him and like a hunter, claiming a prize put a booted foot on his chest, before everything faded into a deep, all pervasive blackness as consciousness deserted him.

* * *

**Earth Orbit**

**A Few Hours Later**

Captain Jonathan Archer leaned forward slightly and inclined his head to look out the curving, transparent aluminium view port of the work bee inspection pod at the dull silver-grey hull of the starship that was starting to slowly sweep past above them, her hull seeming to glow as it was bathed in the bright light of slipway floodlights. For several months – ever since his promotion to captain's rank – he'd been observing the final phases of construction of this ship, his ship. He'd watched as the last of the hull sections on both the largely saucer shaped primary hull and the vaguely cylindrical shape of the secondary or engineering hull be completed, encasing the ship in a thick, air tight shell of tough carbon nanomesh reinforced duranium alloy. He'd watched as she was fitted out and been an observer as the dockyard crew put her through her paces in space trials, now she was almost ready to leave space dock and take her first steps out into the vast expanse of the galaxy.

The _Enterprise_ was the first ship of her class, the first of a completely new line of ships being commissioned by Starfleet. Like all the latest Starfleet designs the Enterprise-class ships were equipped with warp five engines – though unlike the others they were designed to be able to sustain warp five for a long period of time unlike most of the other ships with could only do warp five for short bursts. Plus _Enterprise_ and her sisters – the keels of three of which _Columbia, Challenger _and _Discovery_ were already laid down – would have a higher standard cruising speed than any other class currently in service, being capable of a sustained cruise of warp 4.7 as opposed to the 4.5 that was the standard cruising speed for all the other classes.

The Enterprise-class was also designed to be a multi-role vessels from the word go as opposed to most other Starfleet ships, which were warships first, and anything else second. Indeed the primary mission of the _Enterprise_ and her sisters would primarily be ships of exploration, charting the galaxy beyond the space known to the Terran Alliance, searching for new colonisation opportunities and making contact with species no Terran had ever seen before. Though like all Starfleet vessels they would be well armed with the latest in weaponry and protected by all the latest defence technologies, after all they had learned the hard way that not all aliens were friendly so it was best to be prepared.

"She's looking good isn't she cap," a familiar southern accented voice said from the pilots position beside him. Abandoning his examination of the _Enterprise_ Jon turned his attention to Commander Charles Anthony Tucker the Third, an old friend of his from the academy and _Enterprise's_ chief engineer.

"That she is, Trip," he replied using the nickname that Charles Tucker preferred to be called by – anyone calling him Charlie did so at there own peril, unless that someone was his mother who could get away with it – with a smile. "How much longer till she's ready for the maiden voyage?"

"About two weeks," Trip answered knowing his friend knew this already though it was one thing to hear it from the yard dogs and quite another to hear it off him. "We're almost ready it's just a few more systems to install and calibrate. We still have to get the weapons systems up and running – those new second generation phase cannons Starfleet's given us are being a right bitch we've had to order some new EPS relays for them with better tolerances to the original ones – those burned out when we ran a full power test on the cannons.

"The shield generators are in but there not connected to the power grid yet, the hull polarisation systems are operational as are the torpedo launchers so it's no major rush in that department," he continued. "The lateral sensor pallets are being buggy, there's something wrong with the software it's not interfacing properly with the main computer cores data management system – the IT guys are on it and assure me they'll have it sorted out in a couple of hours. Let's see what else… oh yes the port impulse drive keeps misfiring, faulty fuel flow regulators. The new ones have arrived its just a matter of fitting them, yard dogs say it will take a few days – though I'm hoping to shave a day or two off that estimate, the yard dogs are always to conservative with these things."

"Well you be careful, you and your teams have a lot of work to do to be ready for our launch date," Jon replied with a knowing smile, "and Trip do try to remember that not all your people can keep going as long as you can."

"You don't have to remind me," Trip answered back with a grin at the old running joke between them, one that dated all the way back to their academy days. "Though I've never been more grateful that those Optimum idiots forced genetic engineering on my ancestors than I have been these last few weeks, its been hectic to say the very least. The fact that I can get by on just four hours sleep a night has been a godsend."

Jon nodded in agreement, not for the first time envious of the fact that Trip only really needed four hours of sleep a night – though like normal people he would grab a solid eight hours if he could though it was not biologically necessary for him to sleep for so long. At the same time though he inwardly frowned at the reference to the Optimum Movement and how it still affected the world even though the movement itself was long since dead.

The Optimum Movement had been one of the major political factions of the twenty-first century, and one of the main causes of the Third World War and the eight hundred and fifty million deaths in the war and in the radiological and climatological fallout that had followed. At the height of its power, the Optimum Movement had controlled all the southern states of the old United States from Florida in the east to California in the west and had had enough control in political, law enforcement and military circles in the other states to paralyse the rest of the US. If that hadn't been bad enough in addition they'd controlled most of Central and Southern America, China and some of Africa giving them an enormous amount of political, economic and military power. Many of the Optimum's actions still cast long shadows over humanity, even now more than a century after their rule had ended in a blaze of thermonuclear fire.

The biggest of these lingering shadows was with regards to genetics and bioengineering.

During its long reign the Optimum had had forced all pregnant mothers in the places they controlled to have their children undergo in utero genetic alteration as the Optimum leadership had seen genetic enhancement as a means of making better – or as they put it more optimal – people. People had not had the luxury of refusing as if they did they would have been declared non-optimal and summarily executed. They'd made such a mockery of the stricter controls on biotechnology and genetic science imposed after the Eugenics War that many of those controls had had to be abandoned or at the very least substantially reduced.

The modern result of their actions was people like Trip, who were through no fault of their own Augments in everything but name. _Though I should be grateful myself that the Optimum's actions made a blanket ban on genetic engineering impossible to maintain,_ he thought, _thanks to that I'll never get the Clarks Syndrome that killed my dad, since they fixed the faulty gene responsible in me before I was born._

"But enough about me," Trip said breaking the momentary silence. "How are the selections coming for the rest of the senior staff?"

"Not too badly," Jon admitted. "I still have some positions to fill, especially the first officer, science and armoury officer positions; though with regards to the latter I'm tempted to ask Major Reed to assume the role, having served on ships before he does have the right cross training to do the job. I also need to select a new chief medical officer considering Doctor Parks broke his back in three places in a climbing accident on Kilimanjaro last week – poor guy will never walk again."

Trip winced. "Poor guy," he said shaking his head knowing that even with modern medicine there wasn't much that could be done to repair a damaged or severed spinal cord. Doctor Parks had been a good man and one he'd been looking forward to working with. "Any idea who his replacements going to be?" he asked.

"Not yet, Starfleet Medical has given me a list of candidates but I've not had any chance to really go through it yet."

Trip frowned thoughtfully and was about to put in his own two pennies worth when the work bee's communications panel trilled for attention. Instantly he turned his attention to the comm. panel, which showed an encrypted transmission from the planet waiting to be answered, a signal that going on the encryption and priority tagging was coming directly from Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco.

"What is it," Jon asked all thoughts about Doctor Parks and the still vacant crew positions on _Enterprise _forgotten for now.

"Encrypted priority comm. from Starfleet," Trip answered before giving his friend a surprised look, "Jon its coming straight from Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco!"

Jon blinked in surprise at that. Encrypted subspace comm. messages coming to and from Starfleet ships to other Starfleet ships or to other Starfleet facilities be they orbital or ground based was nothing new – Starfleet never exchanged information on open channels to do so would be foolhardy as you never knew who could be listening in. But it was highly unusual for Starfleet Command to send a priority marked encrypted signal to a ship that was still safely cocooned in one of the slipways of the orbital shipyards.

"Put it through," he ordered wondering what in the world had happened now. Something had to be going down otherwise Starfleet wouldn't have bothered to hail them, whoever wanted them in command would have just waited till they returned to the stations hub or returned planet side.

Trip did as instructed and a moment later the worker bee's speakers crackled and hummed with the incoming transmission. "Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, sirs," a young male voice said over the channel, almost being drowned out by the humming of the power the subspace antenna at Starfleet Command was putting behind the signal.

"Yes what is it," Jon asked.

"Admiral Forrest would like to see the two of you in Starfleet Medical immediately, sir," the voice, presumably that of some young ensign in the headquarters communications division, answered. Inwardly Jon sighed softly. _Now what,_ he thought wondering if he would ever get more than ten minutes peace before _Enterprise_ slipped her shipyard moorings for the last time and went out into the galaxy. He knew he wouldn't get much peace afterwards – captaining a starship was after all a lot of hard work.

"Tell him we'll be right there," Jon replied giving Trip a subtle nod. Trip inclined his head in acknowledgement of the silent command before starting to guide the pod away from the nearly complete ship towards the shipyard hub where no doubt a shuttle would be waiting to take them down to Starfleet Headquarters.

"Yes sir," the communications rating on the other end of the channel answered before closing down.

"I wonder what that's about," Trip said.

"Not a clue," Jon replied glancing out the view port again, catching a last glimpse of his ship before the grey metal of the shipyard gave way to the star filled darkness of space. Though only for a moment as Trip brought the pod around so the whole of the shipyard came into view.

It was a huge facility over fifty kilometres across and dozens of kilometres tall. All around the perimeter were slipways in which Starfleet ships of all sizes and configurations were in various stages of construction, inside the perimeter were the storage bays and fabrication facilities where the parts for the various ships – everything from deck plates to EPS relays – were created and stored. Then there was the hub in the core where personnel quarters, power plants and control facilities were located. Back dropping it all was the blue, green and brown ball of the Earth. The shipyard wasn't the largest in the Terran Alliance – that title was held by the Utopia Planitia Shipyards over Mars – but it was still an impressive complex and of a scale that was only possible to build in space.

Silently, gracefully and with easy skill Trip guided the small pod over the massive shipyard towards one of the hubs docking ports; Jon watched out the corner of his eyes though he didn't doubt his friend's abilities. Genetic enhancements non-withstanding Trip was an excellent pilot – he just wanted to distract himself from wondering about the reason for the summons to Starfleet Medical. It wasn't working and try as he might he couldn't think of anything to explain it. _Whatever is going on I hope its something minor, which wont disrupt our launch plans,_ he thought.

* * *

**A Short Time Later**

Any hope Jonathan Archer had had that the issue that had led to Admiral Forrest summoning him and Trip would be something relatively minor evaporated when they arrived at Starfleet Medical. A muscular male orderly – with a high powered phased plasma pistol visibly holstered on his right hip – met them at the entrance and led them to the facilities high security wing. After submitting to both retinal and DNA scans to confirm their identities and security clearance the two men followed the orderly to one of the isolation rooms.

Standing like statues outside the room in question were two MACO troopers, decked out in full combat armour and carrying a full array of state of the art weapons. Seeing the two heavily armed space going versions of marines standing guard made both men's concern grow markedly. Whatever they were being brought to see in the isolation room, whoever or whatever was in their, it was clear that their superiors weren't taking any chances with it.

The orderly opened the door and gestured for them both to enter. As he obeyed, Jon noticed that there were a number of people waiting in the outer or observation room, watching something going on in the treatment room beyond the transparent aluminium wall. Both Jon and Trip immediately recognised Admiral Maxwell Forrest, General Robert Casey of the MACO's and Ambassador Soval of Vulcan. With Soval were two more Vulcans, one a younger unfamiliar male in the robes of a junior ambassador the other a female in the grey flowing uniform of the Vulcan High Command.

"You sent of us, sir," Jon said to Admiral Forrest while straightening to attention and offering both Forrest and Casey a salute, beside him Trip did the same.

"Yes I did, Jonathan," Forrest replied returning the salute, aware that Casey was doing the same. "Stand easy," instantly the two younger Starfleet officers relaxed and adopted the parade rest stance, there feet shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind there backs, "I believe you both know Ambassador Soval."

"Ambassador," Jonathan acknowledged, he'd had a fair few encounters with Ambassador Soval in the last few months as _Enterprise_ drew closer to completion. Politely he brought a hand around from behind his back and made the familiar V-shaped Vulcan greeting.

"Captain, Commander," Soval replied returning the greeting. "Allow me to introduce Ambassador Tos and Sub-Commander T'Pol," he added gesturing to his two companions in turn prompting another round of greetings.

With the greeting, formalities over with Jon turned his attention back to Admiral Forrest. "What's this about, sir," he asked.

"Take a look, Jonathan," Forrest said pointing to the window into the rest of the isolation room. Raising an eyebrow Jonathan Archer did as instructed and found himself looking on the familiar site of a medical treatment room – he'd been in one enough times over the years, especially during the last few months of his fathers life as his body slowly shut down from the effects of Clark's Syndrome – to recognise most of the equipment there. Medics moved around the room most of them human though there was a Denobulan doctor present as well. Jon momentarily stared at the Denobulan, as he'd never met a member of that particular species before even though there had been strong diplomatic and trade relations between the Terran Alliance and the Denobulan Hegemony for many years.

What really grabbed his attention though was who or what the doctor and the assisting medics were working on. A humanoid alien lay on the biobed, unconscious but still emitting an air of menace and danger. The alien was very tall with dark bronze skin its forehead was more sloped than a humans and featured unusual cranial ridges that ran like a mountain range down the centre of the forehead, framing a face that looked like it was made to permanently snarl was wild black hair almost like a lion's mane. In addition, the alien was big, very big and none of its mass appeared to be fat. Overall, the alien looked like someone Jon would not want to meet in an alley – drunk or sober – on a dark night.

"What kind of alien is that," Jon asked calmly, not letting a hint of the unease the aliens appearance caused creep into his voice. "I've never seen this species before."

"He's a Klingott," Casey replied stumbling slightly over the pronunciation.

"Klingon," Soval corrected immediately. "The correct pronunciation, general is Klingon."

"How did he get here," Trip asked moving forward and looking through the window himself at the alien and feeling the same air of menace that Jon felt even though the alien was unconscious. Immediately he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up slightly and felt his muscles tensing as his instincts prepared his body for a possible confrontation he almost balled his hands into fists ready for combat but managed to clamp down on that reaction with practice ease, though the tension remained.

"A small alien vessel crashed in a cornfield near the town of Broken Bow, Oklahoma," Forrest answered ignoring the slight almost invisible shift in Trip's body posture as his muscles tensed – it would only embarrass the man to call him on it as it was something he couldn't really help.

Jon's eyebrows shot up. "And we didn't detect it coming in," he asked in surprise.

"Not until the last minute no, it came in at a very oblique angle from high above the plane of the elliptic," Forrest explained. "It didn't show up on our sensor grids until it was already entering the ionosphere. General Casey immediately dispatched a team of MACO's to investigate, when they arrived at the crash site the found a grain silo had been blown up – apparently the Klingon was chased in there by some other aliens, got out and blew the others up when they were still in the silo – and the Klingon flat out on the ground. The farmer, a man named Moore, shot him at point blank range with a plasma rifle he claims in self defence; we have no reason to doubt him."

Trip winced in sympathy for the Klingon at that last part, he'd had plasma burns in the past – most starship engineers got them at some point in time as they were something of an occupational hazard – and though they'd completely healed, not even leaving scars, he fully remembered how painful they were. "Ouch," he said imaging how painful a close range blast from a plasma weapon – even a low powered civilian grade one – would be. _Though he's lucky not to be dead,_ Trip thought, _as even the low energy, non-phased plasma weapons civvies can legally own are pretty damned lethal especially at point blank range._

"We have analysed the crashed vessel it was a K'toch-class scoutship," Ambassador Soval added. "The Klingons name is Klaang apparently he is a member of the Klingon Imperial Intelligence Agency and was carrying a high priority message back to the Klingon High Council when his ship was attacked by an unknown warship near Rigel Nine and forced to flee into Terran space. Apparently the aliens followed and attempted to kill Klaang after his ship crashed."

"You mean there is a potentially hostile alien warship hiding in this system now," Jon asked in concern, an alien warship with unknown but possibly hostile intentions hiding in the Sol system was very worrying as it could potentially cause a lot of damage to vulnerable shipping and space infrastructure before Starfleet could intercept and drive away or destroy it.

"No," Forrest replied, making Jon inwardly sigh in relief. "Shortly after the crash we detected a ship of unknown configuration moving out from a polar orbit it had apparently been using the ambient magnetic flux there to hide from our sensors. They went to warp before our ships could intercept them and masked their warp trail somehow so we've not been able to track them. Patrol ships have been alerted they'll keep an eye out for them and deal with them if needs be. But back to the issue at hand."

"Indeed," Soval said. "Thankfully the Klingon Empire does not know of this incident – if they did they would not react well."

"The Klingons are a warrior race with a highly martial culture that is heavily concerned with honour," Ambassador Tos added. "They are also not the most rational of species, if they learned of Klaang's condition they could well interpret it as an act of aggression against them on the part of Earth."

"They'd attack us over something we haven't even done," Jon asked.

"Indeed they would," Soval replied. "The Klingons are a very volatile and illogical people with an almost pathological need to fight. They would not hesitate to launch raids into Terran controlled space in reprisal for any perceived insult to their honour."

"They could try," Casey said back. "Like the Nausicaan's did they'll just learn that we don't respond well to people trying to bully us or raid our territory for any reason, if we have to teach them that lesson at the point of a phase cannon or by slamming a few photonic torpedoes up their asses then so be it."

"The president would like to avoid any trouble," Forrest reminded his MACO colleague, even though he agreed with the sentiment – if the Klingons did try anything like a raid they would soon learn that Terrans did not tolerate other species attempting to push them about or muscle in on their territory. The Nausicaan Republic had learned that particular lesson the hard way. "And we don't really want another war," he added.

"So what are we going to do," Jon asked. "And what does this have to do with _Enterprise?_"

"We will be returning, Klaang's corpse to the Klingons for the proper ceremonies," Soval answered.

"Corpse is Klaang dying?" Jon replied looking back through the window at the Klingon, while he didn't look good he didn't look like he was dying. Though he was no expert, he could see that while serious the burn from the plasma rifle was not fatal and didn't look to be infected. Without waiting for a response, he walked up to, the comm. panel on the wall next to the window and pressed a button to speak to the Denobulan doctor on the other side of the transparent aluminium barrier. "Excuse me, doctor is this man dying?"

"Doubtful," the Danobulan answered looking up and meeting Jon's brown eyes with eyes that were a distinctly alien shade of cerulean blue. "The plasma burn is extensive, he has sustained a minor concussion and a broken rib presumably from the crash and is suffering from minor theta radiation poisoning…"

"A simple yes or no will suffice doctor," Jon interrupted with just a minor hint of impatience and irritation in his voice as he was not interested in hearing a full list of the injuries that Klaang had sustained, he didn't need that information.

"Provided he's not shot again then no, Klaang isn't going to die," the Danobulan said. "With a little bit of time and with appropriate medical care he will make a complete recovery."

"Thank you, doctor," Jon replied before flicking off the comm. and rounding on the others in the outer room. "Admiral we can't kill this man, it would be murder. And if the Klingons find out that we murdered him before returning his body then we would be asking for trouble."

"There isn't much choice, captain," Soval pointed out trying to reason with the stubborn human though experience had taught him that it was probably a loosing battle. Terrans could be as stubborn as the Tellerites when they wanted to be, it was one of the facets of their nature that made them so bitterly confusing to his kind. "If the Klingons were to learn you have Klaang they would demand that he be returned immediately and they wouldn't hesitate to dispatch a squadron of warships to enforce that demand. Given the volatile nature of the Klingons if their ships and yours met in space there would almost certainly be a battle that could lead to war."

"So we don't tell them we have, Klaang," Jon reasoned, inwardly shivering at the thought of war, he'd fought in the campaign against the Nausicaan's and that had been enough war to last him a lifetime. "We just take Klaang back to his people ourselves without telling them we're coming. They can hardly launch an attack if we return Klaang alive and unharmed while we would also have the benefit of letting him complete his mission. If we do that we stand a chance of at least being on speaking terms with the Klingon Empire."

"Starfleet is in no position to dictate here," Soval pointed out. "All of your faster and more advanced ships are on your border regions, patrolling shipping lanes or enforcing your ongoing blockade of Nausica Prime. There are no ships available that are fast enough to get Klaang back to the Klingon Empire in a reasonable period of time."

"That is not exactly true, ambassador as you are well aware," Jon replied finally figuring out why Admiral Forrest had sent for him and Trip. "We could take _Enterprise._"

"_Enterprise_ is not fully operational yet," Ambassador Tos pointed out. "Not to mention that you do not have a full crew compliment." Jon frowned slightly wondering just how Ambassador Tos knew that _Enterprise_ did not yet have a full crew compliment, though there were almost there. A glance at Admiral Forrest showed he was thinking the same thing.

"Three days," Trip abruptly said bringing everyone's attention to him. "With some assistance from the yard dogs my engineers can have _Enterprise_ fully operational and ready to launch within seventy-two hours."

"It would be illogical to rush you would risk the safety of your entire crew, commander," T'Pol said speaking for the first time.

"No we wouldn't, not if the yard dogs working on _Columbia_ stop for a bit and help us," Trip answered. "Construction on _Columbia_ is way ahead of schedule it would not be a loss of time if the yard dogs stopped working on her and helped us finish off _Enterprise._"

"That is doable," Forrest said. "What about crew? Ambassador Tos is quite correct in that you do not yet have a full crew compliment, especially with regards to senior officers."

"There are only a handful of senior officer positions left to fill, sir," Jon replied. "I've already thought of who could fill the armour officer/security chief position. If we can bypass the bureaucrats in personnel I can get the rest of the remaining positions filled."

"This is typical of your impulsiveness," T'Pol pointed out. "It is illogical to rush, it would be more logical to follow the High Command's recommendation. You should kill Klaang and give him to us so we can return his body to the Empire. As illogically aggressive as they are the Klingons will not risk a military confrontation with us in the way they would be willing to risk with you."

"We don't answer to the Vulcan High Command though, we don't have to listen to your advice, especially when that advice is to commit cold blooded murder," Jon replied giving the Vulcan a look of mild annoyance, before turning back to Forrest. "Admiral let us do this, please."

For a moment, Forrest considered. While the Vulcan High Command had proposed a logical plan, it was typically Vulcan in its coldness and didn't sit well with him at all. He knew the Vulcans didn't mean to be cold, it was just the way they were what with the whole suppression of there emotions thing. From a strictly logical point of view killing Klaang and letting the Vulcans take his body back to the Klingon Empire made sense – the Vulcan Confederacy was extremely powerful and not to be challenged lightly. But he liked the idea of sending _Enterprise_ instead, if felt more right, more the human thing to do.

"Alright," he said at last. "You've got your three days."

"We still have concerns about this," Soval said. "But we obviously cannot convince you to follow the more logical course of action. Do as you wish, I just hope it doesn't backfire on you."

As soon as he finished speaking Soval turned and left the room, Ambassador Tos followed immediately behind him while T'Pol lagged behind. For a moment, she studied the assembled humans with a look of detached interest in her eyes. She'd been watching Captain Archer and Commander Tucker from the moment they'd come in the latter especially since he caught sight of Klaang. She'd noticed the almost invisible change in his body posture as his muscles tensed a reaction the other Terrans hadn't had even though it was obvious that the hulking Klingon warrior made them uneasy even though he was as they said out cold. It indicated to her that there was a lot more to the commander than what there appeared to be on the surface. Mentally she made a note to look over the personnel file of one Charles Tucker the Third when she returned to the embassy compound before turning and following her fellow Vulcans out the room leaving the four humans alone.

For a moment, there was silence in the room. Then General Casey sighed.

"Thank goodness there gone," he said in relief looking after the departed aliens. "No offence, Max but I don't know how you can deal with them so often."

"Practice and a great deal of patience," Forrest answered with a smile. "The Vulcans aren't bad once you get to know them, they just seem very strange to us because of the way they repress there emotions. They don't mean to be cold, its just there way."

"Still rather you than me dealing with them," Casey replied before looking at the other two men in the room. "Now if you'll excuse me gentlemen I have to go, there are things I need to do."

"We should all get going," Forrest said. "We've got three days to get _Enterprise _ready. Commander are you sure you'll be able to have _Enterprise_ ready in time?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't, sir," Trip replied. "We'll be ready."

"I hope so," Forrest replied. "Because if you're wrong the Vulcans will be all over us diplomatically speaking; the president won't like that at all. Especially given that there are elections next year and how the general public like the Vulcans."

"If Trip says three days then it will be three days, admiral," Jon said coming to his friends defence.

"I hope your right, because God help us if you're wrong. Good day gentlemen," Forrest replied before leaving the room, Casey following leaving the two friends alone.

"Three days," Jon said turning to look at Trip. "You've really set us a tough deadline there, Trip. What on Earth possessed you to say three days? We could have done with a week."

Trip shrugged. "I had to say something," he said. "I didn't mean to say three days it just slipped out. I'll have the ship ready in time don't you worry about that."

"I know you will, though you're going to be knackered by the end of it."

"I'll be fine. I'll just have to make sure there is plenty of coffee handy."

Jon chuckled then frowned as he noticed the way Trip was standing. "Are you okay," he asked putting a hand on his friends arm and feeling how tense Trip's muscles were. Had Trip taken off his uniform jacket to show the short sleeve polo shirt underneath he was sure he would have seen the muscles looking like they were about to pop out of Trip skin like how they looked after a heavy workout. "What's got you so tense?"

"Klaang," Trip admitted. "I have to tell you, Jon he gives me the creeps. There is just this air about him that you can feel even from here. Considering how busy I've been the last few days I couldn't help but react to it."

"Are you going to be okay with him on the ship?" Jon asked in concern.

"I'll be fine, though I can't guarantee the punching bags in the gym will be. I'm sure I'll be okay with him once I get used to him. It's just right now…"

"…your instincts are telling you that he's a potential threat to you," Jon finished for him. He had guessed that was the case having known Trip for as long as he had and having dealt with other augments in the past. He knew how strong there instincts could be at times – especially the fight or flight instinct. All humans had it; it was just a little stronger in augments than in normal humans for some reason that the geneticists had yet to fully define.

"Yeah sometimes this enhanced genetics thing is more trouble than its worth. Oh, I don't mind the fact that I can get by easily on four hours sleep, and the strength certainly comes in useful but at times like this, it can be a right pain in the ass. Don't worry though I'll be fine."

"Okay if you're sure. Now then, how about we go over to the Officers Club and grab a bite to eat before heading back to _Enterprise_ and getting to work. I'll buy."

Trip smiled. "Deal," he said.

Jon smiled back and took one last look around the outer chamber and then into the isolation rooms treatment area. He caught sight of the Denobulan doctor still working tirelessly over the unconscious Klingon, working to save his life without any sign of being intimidated by the hulking alien. _I should see if I could get him on __Enterprise_, he thought, _a doctor who's not intimidated by even a hulking alien like Klaang could come in very useful_.

A hand suddenly waving in front of his eyes made him jump. "Hello Earth to Captain Archer come in please," Trip, said his voice thick with humour. "You okay? You were staring into space quite intently there for a minute."

"I'm fine, Trip. I was just thinking," Jon replied. "That Danobulan doctor, maybe I can entice him into the chief medical officer position on _Enterprise_."

"A Danobulan doctor here on that interspecies medical exchange thing the Vulcans talked the president into serving as the CMO of a Starfleet ship," Trip answered thoughtfully. "That would be interesting, especially all the things I've heard about how Danobulans like to sometimes use alternative therapies to what you would think of. Be an interesting experience for the crew as well, dealing with an alien doctor on a day to day week to week basis."

"Indeed, but enough standing around here, let's go have some food, I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Trip laughed slightly and where his hand was still on Trips arm Jon could feel his friend relaxing, feel the tense muscles loosening. Letting go of his friends arm Jon turned and left the isolation room himself, with Trip following along closely behind him, both thinking first about having something to eat and second on how they were going to do the near impossible task of getting _Enterprise _ready to launch in just three days. _We'll do it,_ Trip thought as he followed his old friend and now commanding officer, _we have to._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

**Suliban Helix 024**

**Sometime Later**

Commander Silik scowled as he purposefully made his way through the corridors of the Helix towards the communications chamber in the facilities heart. The rest of the Cabal would not be pleased by what he had to report to them, he knew that as he himself wasn't pleased by what his subordinates had reported to him. Though Klaang's ship had been stopped from returning to Klingon space and exposing their involvement in the internal strife plaguing the empire, it had been forced down on the Terran homeworld. The attack cruiser that had forced the K'toch-class scout down had deployed soldiers to the planet to finish off the Klingon while using the ambient magnetic flux of the planets northern pole to hide from the Terran sensors.

Unfortunately that was as good as things had gone.

Arriving outside the communications room Silik took a few moments to mentally prepare himself for what was going to be an uncomfortable conversation, before inputting his code into the door controls. For a second nothing happened then with a series of whirrs and clicks the doors heavy locks disengaged and it slid obediently open. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought to himself as he walked into the chamber. It was a relatively barren and simple looking room, its walls made out of silver-white metal and engraved with complex geometric patterns that were aesthetically pleasing to the many parts of the electromagnetic spectrum that could be seen by the compound retina that was such a unique feature of the Suliban eye. Eight platform-like holographic transmission pedestals stood in room. Several of them arranged into an arc shape facing the eighth and it was up to that solo platform that Silik walked.

Climbing onto the platform Silik waited until with a tingling sensation a razor thin line of blue light scanned him from the souls of his feet to the top of his head, confirming that he was who he said he was and that he was authorised to speak to the members of the Cabal. With his identity firmly verified the other seven platforms began to glow and from each came a shimmering almost transparent pillar of energy – inside of which stood a Suliban. Two the members wore the same maroon-coloured jumpsuits as Silik himself, indicating there membership in the Suliban military. The rest wore dusty red or brown robes with the woman occupying the centre platform wearing red and gold robes of ornate weave along with the Tiara of Influence and holding the Sceptre of Power that identified her as the Supreme Leader of the Suliban race.

"Where is, Klaang?" the Supreme Leader demanded immediately.

Silik bowed in respect, doing his best to swallow his nerves as he did so, before answering her. "Eminence I regret to inform you that there has been a complication in the pursuit of Klaang," he reported.

"What kind of complication Commander Silik," Supreme Leader Varni asked, "in our last communication you assured us that the pursuit of Klaang's ship was nearing its end."

"The pursuit has indeed ended your eminence, the attack cruiser pursuing Klaang's vessel was able to disable it and force the vessel to crash onto the surface of the Terran homeworld. However moments before impact Klaang was able to regain some control and make a semi-controlled crash landing. Two soldiers were immediately dispatched to eliminate him and the knowledge that he possesses. However, they failed in their mission. Both soldiers were killed Klaang is now in the hands of the Terrans."

"WHAT!" Varni thundered her fury making Silik wince. "That is not acceptable, Commander Silik. Klaang must be eliminated before he can carry his knowledge back to the Klingon Empire. You have to get him back."

"Unfortunately that will be very difficult, eminence," Silik replied apologetically. "The incident has led to a significant increase in military alertness in the Terran system. The size and frequency of military patrols has increased significantly as have emissions from the systems tracking grid. None of our ships would stand a chance of entering the system without being detected and challenged something that we can ill afford to happen."

"We cannot let, Klaang remain free," another member of the Cabal pointed out. "He knows too much, if he does return to the Klingon Empire with the knowledge he has probably been given by the traitors, all of our hard work, all our sacrifices, will be in vain."

"Unfortunately Commander Silik does have a point that we cannot risk exposing ourselves to the Terran Alliance," another member pointed out, this one wearing one of the maroon jumpsuits. After a second Silik recognised him as Korlin another senior commander like himself, he paid close attention as Korlin continued. "While it is true the Terrans are relative newcomers to the galactic scene, their technology has advanced to be comparable to our own in some areas with incredible speed.

"Their military capabilities are formidable, we should not forget that they defeated the Nausicaan Republic, driving the Nausicaan's all the way back to Nausica Prime and imprisoning them there, in just over one of our years. It would be a mistake of the highest order to underestimate them and their abilities," Korlin said. "We must also be aware that they have had extensive diplomatic contact with the Vulcan Confederation for a number of decades, while by all accounts they are a fully independent power and not a client state we cannot rule out the possibility of the Vulcans siding with them should they come into conflict with us."

Silence descended upon the room for a moment as everyone considered what Korlin had just said. The Vulcans were one of the oldest of the spacefaring races, their technology more advanced than most other known species. Conflict with them would be very much a nightmare scenario as while the Vulcans preferred to use economic sanctions and endless rounds of diplomacy to solve a problem they would fight if presented with no other alternative. And when Vulcans fought it was with a cold, logical precision that was both truly terrifying to behold and utterly relentless. Though the Suliban had become very powerful over the last few decades, even they wouldn't last long in battle with the Vulcans.

"So what do we do about this," Varni asked, breaking the brooding silence that had descended upon everyone. "Klaang must be stopped everything we've planned and worked for depends upon it."

"I have a plan that will help us there, eminence," Silik replied.

"Explain."

"We have two stealth cruisers holding position just outside the Terran home system, hanging just beyond there sensor range, listening in upon their communications," Silik answered. "We have managed to decipher some of their military communications codes, from them we have learned that a Terran Starfleet vessel called _Enterprise _carrying Klaang will be departing their homeworld for Qo'nos within the next day or two."

"You plan on intercepting them," Korlin asked.

"Yes."

"Risky. Stealth cruisers are built strictly for stealth and reconnaissance, while armed they are not meant to engage in direct ship-to-ship combat," Korlin pointed out.

"Indeed," Silik answered, "but the scientists here assure me that _Enterprise_ will not detect the cruisers in time to fire upon them. We should be able to retrieve, Klaang with minimal effort and minimal risks."

"Its still a huge risk, but one that we have to take," Korlin replied.

"Indeed it does not mean I have to like the plan, if it fails then the Terrans could become aware of us and if they do then so will the Vulcans. However, as Commander Korlin points out we have no choice. Now what of the traitors," the Supreme Leader asked. "Have Sarin in her group been tracked down yet?"

"Not yet your eminence," Silik replied. "We believe that they are hiding somewhere in the Rigellian system, however we have yet to pinpoint the exact location. The amount of traffic in the system from so many different species is hampering our efforts."

"Unacceptable. Sarin must be captured or killed as soon as possible," Varni, answered. "She and her followers have already endangered our carefully laid plans for finding a new homeworld, they must be made an example of or the descent will surely spread to others among our people."

"She will be, your eminence I have some of my best trackers on her trail it is only a matter of time before they find her," Silik assured her. "What should we do with her when they succeed?"

"Capture her if possible, we would like to make a public example of her," Varni replied. "However if capture is not possible then silence her once and for all."

"It shall be done."

"In the meantime keep us apprised of the situation with Klaang and the Terran vessel," Varni ordered. "And Silik do not fail us again."

Silik bowed slightly again while inwardly shivering at the implied threat from the Supreme Leader, knowing that if they failed to recover the Klingon intelligence operative from the hands of the Terrans then things would not go well for him.

"I won't fail you eminence," he replied.

"See that you don't," the Supreme Leader answered before her hologram evaporated, immediately followed by the other six holograms of the members of the inner chamber of the Cabal.

Alone once more in the chamber, Silik reflected upon the meeting – it had gone as well as he could have expected. The rest of the Cabal and especially Supreme Leader Varni were running out of patience both with the Sarin issue and the inseparably linked issue of Klaang.

It was understandable.

The Cabal and the Suliban race in general had spent an enormous amount of time and resources on the quest to start a civil war in the Klingon Empire. A conflict that would be of benefit to the long term Suliban goal of securing a new homeworld, replacing Suliban Prime that had been taken from them by such a cruel twist of fate. Unfortunately Sarin and her supporters were standing in the way of that goal, there interference could set the Suliban cause back decades if the worst happened and Klaang got whatever he had been given by Sarin back to Qo'nos. _He's not going to succeed though,_ he thought, _we'll get him off __Enterprise__, find out what exactly Sarin gave him then we'll silence him forever. Then it will be Sarin's turn to die for what she has done._

Smiling at the thought that soon this whole security threat would be dealt with _permanently_ Silik headed towards Helix Operations. He had a few things to check on before he could turn in for the night, he hoped nothing major had come up as the next few days were going to be crucial and he couldn't afford to be distracted. After all it was the next few days that would determine if the Suliban would succeed or fail in there task. Silik hoped it would be the former.

Because he had no idea what they would do if they failed.

* * *

**TAS Enterprise**

**Earth Orbit **

**A Short Time Later**

"I hear it's been approved for bio-transport."

Major Malcolm Reed jumped slightly as he was jolted out of his silent contemplation of the transporter platform by a voice from off to his right. Turning in the direction the voice had come from he found himself face to face with a tall, dark-skinned young man in the familiar blue two-piece uniform of Starfleet with the rank pip of an ensign.

With a practiced eye, he found himself accessing the younger man who looked to be in his early twenties and was surprisingly well muscled for someone of his apparent age – clearly the ensign was someone who took Starfleet's physical fitness protocols extremely seriously. The other man also held an easy stance that Malcolm had come to associate over the years with someone who spent a great deal of time in space. Spacers Stance as many people in the media called it.

"I'm sorry," he asked. "What were you saying, ensign?"

"I said I hear it's been approved for bio-transport," the ensign replied nodding at the transporter device. Malcolm nodded he had heard that as well though he wasn't sure how accurate it was. Transporter beam technology was still very new to Terran science, the technology having only been perfected three years earlier by a scientist named Emory Erickson. There were still so many unknowns with it, so many things that they had yet to learn.

"I hope by that you mean fruit and vegetables," he replied.

The ensign shook his head. "No I mean Starfleet officers and MACO's," he replied with a smile before offering a hand, "Ensign Travis Mayweather, senior helmsman."

"Major Malcolm Reed," Malcolm answered taking the offered hand and shaking it. "Armoury and Security, pleasure to meet you, ensign. Forgive me for saying so but you seem…"

"… A bit young to be senior helmsman," Travis finished for him grinning. "Well looking from a groundsider perspective I suppose I am but I've been flying ships since I was twelve."

"Boomer," Malcolm queried using the slang term for someone who'd been born and grown up on one of the many thousands of freighters that plied the space lanes – a sizeable percentage of which were independent traders or cargo haulers, which were nearly always family run affairs with siblings, cousins and so on combining into crews.

"Yep and proud of it," Travis replied. "I never set foot on a planet for more than a few hours until two years ago, when I came to join Starfleet. So what do you think about the transporter being approved for personnel transport?"

"While I cannot deny the potential tactical advantages of being transported I think I'm not ready to have my molecules converted into a datastream," Malcolm answered. "I think I'll stick to shuttles thank you very much, ensign."

Travis laughed. "I don't blame you," he said grinning humorously. "You wouldn't catch me going through that thing for all the gold pressed latinum in the galaxy."

Malcolm chuckled liking the kid's sense of humour, before turning serious. "Anything I can help you with, ensign?" he asked.

"No, no, nothing," Travis answered. "I just saw you standing there, staring at that thing. Moreover, I'm still trying to figure out where everything is and who everyone is on this ship so thought I'd say hello. Though might I ask what you're doing here?"

"Waiting by the transporter?" Malcolm asked half guessing what was coming. _If I had a credit or a strip of gold pressed latinum for every single time a green fleeter asks me what I think he's going to ask me what I think he's going to ask me, I would be a millionaire by now,_ he thought with a mental smile.

"Well that and on the ship in general, I wouldn't have thought there would be MACO's on a Starfleet ship," Travis admitted looking a little sheepish.

"Why wouldn't we be here, ensign," Malcolm replied before deciding he might as well give the Boomer kid a minor history lesson. "Marines have served on navy ships for centuries, ever since the Age of Sail; MACO's – like me – are the modern space version of marines. Thus, we are here. Starfleet is a navy, granted a space navy but a navy nevertheless. Our primary mission is as it's always been to help protect the vessel and carry out boarding and landing assaults where required.

"In addition, _Enterprise_ is a very important vessel to the future of Starfleet," Malcolm continued. "Thus there are slightly more of us here than normal considering where this particular mission is going to take us General Casey and Admiral Forrest thought it sensible to assign more MACO's to my team than I'd normally have."

"I never thought of it like that," Travis admitted a little sheepishly. "But thinking about it now your right it makes sense to have MACO's on board. As for where we are going I have to admit to being a little worried."

"Why's that ensign?" Malcolm asked wondering if Travis knew anything about either the Klingons or the region of space, _Enterprise_ would have to pass through to get to the Klingon Empire. He wouldn't be surprised if he did as Boomer crews tended to know a lot about what went on among the stars as they often carried passengers – alien or human – between different stars as well as cargo. And when they were aliens those passengers weren't always from species the Terran Alliance had official contact with yet.

"I've heard a few things about that region from time to time," Travis admitted. "A few times we had aliens on the _Horizon_ who were from that area. It's rumoured that the borderland as its called is an area rife with pirates, Orion slavers, and other unsavoury elements."

"All the more reason for the presence of me and my team," Malcolm said, "and to get all of our weapons systems working and not just the torpedo banks. That's why I'm waiting here now some components are due to be beamed aboard from the shipyard fabrication facilities."

"Weapons components?"

"Of a sort," Malcolm answered but before he could explain further the sound of the transporter, activating caught his attention.

Turning to watch he saw the upper and lower discs of the transporter platform light up. For a moment nothing more happened beyond a humming whine of power then small silvery-white particles of energy began to appear. First as small individual dots but rapidly expanding outward and forming into the shape of a series of carefully stacked boxes, the density of the particles increased and the boxes themselves appeared, transparent at first but rapidly solidifying. The silvery swirling particles of the transport beam faded away revealing four solid boxes on the platform. _Amazing this thing,_ he thought with a hint of awe, he'd seen transporter beams in action before but never on a ship, _Enterprise _being the first Terran ship to have a transporter platform on board, and the technology never failed to amaze him even though he swore he would never let anyone put him through one of these things.

Without hesitation, he moved forward, climbed up on the platform, and opened the closest box, hoping that it would contain the items he'd been waiting for. He was disappointed but not particularly surprised to find that instead of the expected EPS relays the boxes contained magnetic field coils of the right mark to safely contain and regulate the flow of an antimatter stream. On the off chance that they might be mixed up with the magnetic coils, he checked the other three boxes, with the same result.

"Damn," he said aloud without realising it as he resealed the boxes.

"Problem, sir," Travis asked.

"Nothing, ensign I was hoping that this transport would be class-four EPS relays," Malcolm explained. "I've been expecting them since yesterday we'll need them to get our phase cannons working. Help me with these."

"Yes sir," Travis replied before moving in to help Malcolm pick up the four boxes – they weren't particularly heavy or large, but the shapes were awkward to say the least. After a moment of working it out, they carried two boxes each. "Where are we taking these?" Travis asked as they left the small area set aside for the transporter.

"Engineering, I need to have a word with Commander Tucker see when those EPS relays are arriving, no doubt he'll tell me that they'll be hear tomorrow," Malcolm said with a sigh before imitating the engineers thick southern twang, "'keep your shirt on, your equipment will be here in the morning.'"

Travis laughed softly, he'd met Charles Tucker a few times since he'd come on board and knew that was just the kind of thing the augment would say. Though hearing someone with such a strong British accent doing a passable imitation of a southern drawl was interesting to say the least. "That's not bad," he said as they made there way down the bustling corridors of the _Enterprise_ both ignoring all the work going on around them as engineers and yard dogs worked tirelessly to get the ship operational in time for the moved up launch.

* * *

Main engineering was a large space on the upper two decks of the engineering hull, separated from the other parts of the ship by thicker than average bulkheads to protect the rest of the vessel in the event of a radiation or plasma leak. Running along most of the hull it was divided up into three main compartments, the first being the engineering control room from which all the systems on the entire vessel could be monitored, the second and largest compartment housing the warp reactor and the third and final compartment being an access point from which someone could climb up into the nacelles to check or do maintenance on the dozens of individual warp field coils lining them.

Arriving in the first compartment Malcolm Reed and Travis Mayweather were treated to a sight of controlled chaos. A number of panels all around the large room were open with engineers working at rapid pace on the exposed systems; other engineers were working at the various control panels as they brought systems online, steadily transforming _Enterprise_ from a lifeless mass of metal and circuitry into a living, breathing ship.

Standing near the entrance Malcolm carefully surveyed the room for any sign of his query. But strangely enough he couldn't spot Trip anywhere, he could see plenty of other engineers bustling round working but their was no sign of Trip at all. "Where's Commander Tucker," he asked the closest engineer.

"In his quarters or he's supposed to be," the engineer answered not looking up from his work installing some components into one of the many consoles. "He hasn't slept for near enough two days, Captain Archer spotted it when he came down here earlier for a progress report and made him go to his quarters for a rest."

"Oh. I was hoping to speak to him, the EPS relays I need for the phase cannons still haven't arrived," Malcolm replied. At that, the engineer stopped and looked up with a frown.

"Still," he said sounding and looking confused. "I'm sure they arrived a few hours ago, one second, major." Putting his tools down the engineer – who Malcolm belatedly recognised as Trips second in command Lieutenant David Kelby – picked up pad instead and after wirelessly connecting to the ships main computer input a query; a second later, he got an answer.

"I was right they're here," Kelby said then frowned as he saw where they'd been stored, "though what the hell are they doing in storage bay three? That is supposed to be spare parts for the shuttles only not EPS system components. Someone must have fowled up when they were brought onboard. I'll have a word with the quartermaster get him to check if all the other supplies and components are being stowed where there supposed to be stowed. It wouldn't do us any good to break down in the middle of nowhere and be unable to fix the engines because we can't find the right parts."

"I can do that, lieutenant. You have enough on your plate here, especially as we're supposed to launch tomorrow," Malcolm offered.

"Would you," Kelby asked hopefully. "I'd be grateful if you would, major. Trip will have my head if I don't get this console wired up and fully operational by the time he gets back."

"No problem. Where do you want these boxes?"

"What are they?"

"Magnetic field coils," Travis answered.

"Oh finally we've been waiting all day for those," Kelby said before pointing to a pile of boxes in one corner of the room. "Put them over there. The guys will start installing them into the backup containment field generators as soon as there done with the plasma coolant valves."

Malcolm nodded and led Travis over to where Kelby indicated while the other man went back to work on his own task.

"Looks like the weapons will be online by the time we leave after all," Travis said with a grin.

"Indeed but first I'll go have a word with Lieutenant Rollins," Malcolm replied. "He's the quartermaster he's supposed to make sure everything gets where it's supposed to go." Travis winced at the faint hint of annoyance he heard in the MACO's voice and silently made a mental note to be as far away from that conversation as possible as something told him it was going to be… explosive to say the least.

* * *

**Captain's Ready Room**

**A Short Time Later**

"They cannot be serious."

Captain Jonathan Archer's disbelieving words echoed slightly off the pale grey duranium alloy bulkheads of the small cube that was his personal office just off _Enterprise's_ bridge. The man himself sat in the chair at the desk staring at the image of Admiral Maxwell Forrest on his computer screen.

"I'm afraid they are, Jonathan," Forrest answered from where he was sitting in his own much larger office down at Starfleet Headquarters. "The Vulcan High Command has requested that one of their officers be assigned to _Enterprise_ for the duration of the mission into Klingon space. Ambassador Soval communicated the request to the president this morning. After debating it all afternoon the command council has agreed to it."

"Did they give any indication as to why they want to put an officer on my ship," Jon asked inwardly wondering what the Vulcans were up to. Like many senior frontline officers he was well aware that the Vulcans had been increasingly trying to interfere in Terran internal affairs over the last few years, especially since they'd made contact with the Andorian Empire, thus he couldn't help but wonder what political game the High Command was playing with them this time.

"Unfortunately no," Forrest replied looking a little irritated at the Vulcans himself. "Officially the High Command is pitching it as the next logical step in strengthening the alliance between our two races. That's what they used to convince the president, and what the president used to convince the cabinet."

"I don't buy it we've talked with them about crew exchanges in the past and nothing has ever come of it, the Vulcans have always resisted even considering it. It makes no sense for the High Command to suddenly go back on that."

"Command doesn't buy it either," Forrest admitted. "Unfortunately the president and the political cabinet apparently do, Anders is looking at it as something to improve his re-election chances. And it stands a good chance of succeeding considering how the public still holds the Vulcans in high esteem for all the reconstruction help they provided in the last century. Anders office is going to leak the news to the media in a few hours."

"Politics," Jonathan said with a note of disgust in his voice. "Anders is a fool if he doesn't see that the Vulcan High Command is playing a political game with him."

"Whatever else he may be, Calvin Anders is no fool, remember Jonathan he is an ex-MACO colonel who fought in the Nausicaan War just as we did," Forrest reminded him. "But he is also a politician facing re-election he's not going to look a political gift horse like the Vulcan request in the mouth."

Jonathan sighed. "I suppose not," he admitted. "So what do the Vulcans really want? And why's command agreed to this?"

"We have no idea what there real goal is, Starfleet Intelligence is aware that there is something of a power struggle in the Vulcan High Command at the moment, one faction wanting to improve relations with us – especially as tensions are on the rise between Vulcan and Andoria, we could well be looking at a war brewing between them - while the other faction is against any deepening relations with us."

"So this mission is being used as a political football in an internal Vulcan power struggle?"

"I'm afraid so, sorry Jonathan."

"Brilliant," Jonathan replied feeling something of a headache coming on. Dealing with the kind of politics that only occurred in the Terran Alliance once every five years was bad enough, but now his ship was being used as a political football by competing factions in the Vulcan High Command. "What about command why have they agreed?"

"Anders didn't really didn't give us much of a choice in the matter," Forrest admitted looking annoyed at the president. "He as much told the command council to agree voluntarily or he would directly order them to obey."

"I see," Jonathan, answered. "I hate politics."

"Join the club, but unfortunately it comes with the territory."

"I suppose. So who's the Vulcan that I'm going to be lumbered with? And when does he or she arrive?"

"You've met the Vulcan in question before," Forrest answered and almost smiled at the look of confusion Jonathan shot him in return. "You met two days ago at Starfleet Medical," he continued. "Sub-Commander T'Pol will be shuttling up to the shipyards tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred hours. She should be onboard _Enterprise_ by oh-nine-fifteen hours."

"Great. Alright I'll have the appropriate quarters prepared. Though I'm not sure what I'm going to do with her during the voyage as its going to take a couple of weeks to reach the Klingon border; especially as I don't want to push the warp engines until they've been properly broken in."

"As I understand it you're still short on two key officer positions," Forrest answered. "Sub-Commander T'Pol's file shows that she has the Vulcan equivalent of doctorates in a number of scientific disciplines, as well as considerable command experience."

"Hmmm, I suppose I could make her chief science officer. Though I'm not sure, I'm happy putting her in the direct chain of command by making her first officer. I'll think about it."

"That's all I can ask, Jonathan. I'm sending up T'Pol's personnel file on a sub-channel." As the admiral spoke, an icon appeared on the bottom right hand corner of the plasma display screen indicating that a file was being received on a sub-channel that was present precisely for that kind of thing. After a second, it disappeared as the file transfer ended and the signal automatically closed down.

"Got it," Jon informed his superior officer and one time shipmate. Maxwell Forrest had been second officer on the starship _Farragut_ when he'd been assigned to her after graduating from the academy, just as the war with Nausica began. Despite there differences in rank the war had forged a strong bond of friendship between them, a friendship they'd continued to this day.

Forrest nodded. "I'll contact you again in the morning, just before the commissioning ceremony," he said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir." Forrest gave a slight smile at the formality in Jon's voice before breaking the channel from his end. For a moment, the arrowhead seal of Starfleet appeared on the screen along with the words 'connection terminated' before blinking off and being replaced by the ships main computer directory screen.

Jonathan sighed again and accessed the file Forrest had just sent to him on Sub-Commander T'Pol. For a few seconds the screen remained static as the security subsystems automatically checked the file for any malicious coding that could potentially harm the ships computer then the screen changed. And he found himself looking at the personnel photo of a beautiful woman, though her face was typical of a Vulcan in its almost elfin features, olive-coloured skin and total lack of emotion.

_She would be even more beautiful if she showed feelings_ he thought studying T'Pol's features that may as well be carved from granite instead of belonging to a living, sentient being. One thing he'd never been able to understand about Vulcans was why they worked so hard to suppress their emotions in favour of a rigid logic that would do any computer proud. He personally could never see anyone willing to do that, it would take all the joy out of living. In away the lack of emotion was the most alien thing about the Vulcans, far more so than their olive coloured skin, green copper-based blood, touch telepathic abilities and of course the pointed ears.

After a moments contemplation of the enigma that was the Vulcans and there suppression of emotion he shrugged and was about to start reading the file when a rumble from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet this evening. He felt heat rushing to his cheeks as he instinctively blushed in embarrassment even though there was no one around to hear. _I suppose I better go and grab some food,_ he thought before taking a computer pad out of one of his desk drawers. After wirelessly transferring T'Pol's file into the small PDA-like device, he stood up and left the ready room for the officer's mess.

* * *

It didn't take Jonathan Archer long to reach the officers mess, it was only two decks down from the command level and easily accessible – especially now that the turbolifts were online. That had been one of Trip's first priorities when they got back to _Enterprise_ from Starfleet Medical as the turbolifts made getting personnel and supplies around the ship a whole lot easier, which had only speeded up the engineering work. After all _Enterprise_ was a big ship, she was not the largest starship yet built by Earth – that distinction went to the aging but still formidable Gorgon-class dreadnoughts - but she was still a very large vessel.

Arriving in the mess hall, he was not surprised to find the room practically deserted. Most of the officers were not onboard yet enjoying a last night of shore leave down on the planet, at least those who weren't helping with last minute preparations for tomorrow's launch. However he was surprised – and more than a little annoyed – to find one Charles Anthony Tucker the Third in the room. Trip was sitting by one of the windows looking out of the thick transparent aluminium surface at the space around the ship, though there was not much to see right now with the ship still in dock, instead of stars all that could be seen was the silver and grey of the slipway framework.

Quietly he took some sandwiches out of one of the coolers – he didn't feel like bothering the chef for a hot meal outside of the designated meal times, though he knew the chef would happily warm something up for him if he asked – and made his way over to his friend.

"I thought I told you to go and get some sleep, Trip," he said sternly and had to hold back a grin when Trip emitted a startled yip and visibly jumped. Clearly, Trip had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard his approach, giving him the rare opportunity to surprise his chief engineer as Trip's ears were a lot sharper than his own. Normally Trip would hear him coming, even if he was trying to be quiet.

"Couldn't sleep," Trip asked turning his chair around and giving Jonathan his best glare for trying to give him a heart attack. Jonathan for his part ignored it while noticing that Trip was holding a mug that looked to be full of milk though it was giving off the sweet scent of cinnamon. He also belatedly noticed that Trip wasn't in uniform, but was instead in some civvies, specifically a pale red polo shirt and grey trousers. He'd obviously been back to his quarters as ordered.

"Couldn't or wouldn't," Jonathan asked putting some joking tone into his voice as he sat down opposite.

"Couldn't," Trip assured him. "My mind wouldn't shut up, so rather than bother Phlox while he's still settling in and getting sickbay set up I came to get some of this." In emphasis, he held up the glass of milk, which now looked to be warm, going on the small whiffs of steam that was coming off it.

"Your mom's cure for insomnia," Jon asked, it had been awhile since he'd last seen Amelia Tucker's cure for insomnia – the last time being one time back in the academy when Trip had dragged him across country to Florida to meet his family during a long weekend off.

"Got it in one," Trip replied. "What are you still doing up, cap?"

"One word Trip, paperwork."

Trip winced. "Ouch," he said knowing how tedious staying up to do paperwork could get. He got quite a bit of it as chief engineer; he could only imagine how much more Jon got as _Enterprise's_ master. Even though _Enterprise_ technically wasn't a commissioned vessel, yet – not until the christening ceremony tomorrow before the launch – he imagined Jon got a lot of it.

"Is that what that is," he asked nodding at the pad his friend was holding.

"Of a sort," Jon replied offering the pad to the other man. "Take a look."

Curious despite himself Trip took the small PDA-like device off him and started to look at the contents, while Jon began the delicate task of unwrapping the cellophane from around his plate of sandwiches. Trips curiosity only grew when he saw that the file his friend was reading was the personnel file of the Vulcan officer they'd encountered at Starfleet Medical.

"Okay why are you reading a Vulcan personnel file," he asked giving his old friend a puzzled look.

"Because she's been assigned to _Enterprise_ as of tomorrow morning," Jon answered before emitting a small cry of triumph as he successfully unwrapped his sandwiches. At the look, Trip gave him he sighed and gave the engineer a quick synopsis of the conversation that he had just had with Admiral Forrest.

"Man that stinks," Trip, said shaking his head once he'd finished "I hate politics."

"Join the club," Jon replied before taking a bite of one of his sandwiches. After swallowing, he continued. "Unfortunately there is nothing either of us can do about her coming aboard. Not with President Anders threatening to make her assignment a direct order."

"I guess your right there," Trip, replied before taking a sip of his drink. "So what are you going to do with her when she gets here?"

"Well she has got all the qualifications and more to be a damned good science officer for however long she's on this ship," Jon admitted. "So I'm going to give her the position, though she's got a lot of command experience as well so I might have to make her first officer as well. Though I don't really want to, until I know her better I don't really want to put her in the direct line of command."

"Problem is we need a first officer," Trip reminded him. "Going into deep space without one would be like going out there without a chief engineer. I could probably pull double duty as first officer for awhile if you want me to."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Trip. It wouldn't be fair of me," Jon replied, "I know you have the rank and seniority to serve as a first officer but I've been a first officer. I can tell you from experience that there is a hell of a lot of work involved; it wouldn't be fair to dump all that on you on top of all the work you have as chief engineer."

"You're probably right, as you've reminded me more than once in the past while I am genetically enhanced I'm not Superman," Trip admitted, then grinned. "You could ask, Malcolm."

Jon chuckled. "Are you serious? I don't think there has ever been a case of a MACO being first officer on a Starfleet ship," he said. "Besides Malcolm has enough on his plate, between running armoury, security and keeping forty-nine other MACO's in line."

"True. Looks like you have your answer then, cap."

"Much as I don't like it," Jon replied with a sigh. "Alright I'll make T'Pol first officer as well as chief science officer. I just hope it's not a mistake."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure, Malcolm and yourself will be keeping close watch on what, T'Pol does, I know I will," Trip replied. "So when does Klaang come aboard?"

"A medical shuttle is coming up tomorrow morning, a few hours before departure. They'll be bringing Klaang with them. There going to keep him in a medically induced coma for a bit, until Phlox is happy that he's recovering properly from his injuries. Hopefully Hoshi will have the universal translator programmed with Klingon by the time Phlox is ready to bring Klaang around."

"Hoshi's that green ensign we've got as a communications officer right?"

"Yes. Though according to her academy professors and her educational records she has an impressive ability with linguistics she already fluently speaks a dozen languages Human and alien, including Vulcan, Denobulan and Andorian."

Trips eyebrows rose showing how impressed he was. "I've not met her yet," he admitted. "Still if she can do that then she must have a good head on her shoulders."

"Attractive one as well she's down on the planet at the moment, having a last evening with her parents. She'll come up in the morning with the last of the crew."

"Don't blame her," Trip admitted before finishing his drink, then yawning as his mothers cure for insomnia worked its usual magic.

"Go to your quarters, Trip," Jon said grinning at his friend. "Directly, no quick side trip to check up on Kelby in engineering."

"You know me to well, Jon," Trip replied with a sigh before yawning again.

"Yes I do. Now off you go to your quarters."

"Okay, okay I'm going," Trip answered holding his hands up in a calming gesture while giving a tired smile, two days of being awake constantly – only breaking for food and to use the restroom – catching up on him. "Goodnight, Jon."

"Goodnight, Trip."

Trip gave his friend, now commanding officer, a last tired smile before leaving the officers mess. Jon watched him leave before turning his attention back to his almost finished sandwiches and the pad that Trip had left on the table.

Retrieving the pad, he started reading T'Pol's resume again while munching on the last of the sandwiches. As before he noted how well qualified she was for both senior officer positions that he still had to fill. After a few moments consideration he sighed as he realised he didn't really have much choice but to make T'Pol first officer as well as his chief science officer, it was either that or overburden Trip with additional work and he wouldn't do that. Augment or not Trip would burn out if he had to handle first officer duties on top of the many duties a chief engineer had, and he couldn't well have Malcolm Reed do it.

Opening up another application on the pad he wirelessly accessed the computer core and pulled up the crew registry. After putting in his command code he put T'Pol down for both science and first officer duties, he hesitated for a moment debating with himself if this was the right thing to do before reminding himself that it was his only option. Resolutely he saved the changes before accessing the engineering computer and noting that Kelby had gotten almost all the main systems online in the last few hours, and that the warp core was being run through final diagnostics ready for tomorrow's power up. _Trips got some good people working for him,_ he thought as he put in a new order to reconfigure the environmental systems and gravity plating in the first officer's quarters to levels suitable for long-term habitation by a Vulcan.

Satisfied he disengaged the wireless link to _Enterprise's_ computer network, before locking the pad and slipping it into one of his uniform pockets. After that, he stood up and gathered up both his plate and the glass that Trip's drink had been in, before carrying them to the service window and leaving them there. The skeleton crew on duty in the galley at night would soon pick them up and shove them in the dishwasher for cleaning. He took one last look around the mess hall before leaving, heading for his own quarters. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, the biggest in his career so far, so he needed to be well rested as it wouldn't do for _Enterprise's_ captain to be dead on his feet when the time came to slip there moorings and headed out into the galaxy.

No, it wouldn't do at all.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

**Zephram Cochrane Memorial Spaceport**

**Near San Francisco, Next Morning**

Sub-Commander T'Pol was the picture of Vulcancalmness and composure as she made her way through the bustling Zephram Cochran Memorial Spaceport towards the Starfleet wing of the sprawling complex. She paid no real attention to the throngs of sentient beings around her, beyond what was necessary to avoid colliding with anyone.

As she moved she thought about her mission to accompany the crew of the _Enterprise _during their mission to return Klaang to the Klingon Empire. Though it was not her place to question the will of the High Command, she couldn't help but wonder what there motivations were for assigning her to _Enterprise._ The Terrans didn't exactly need to have a Vulcan looking over there shoulders on even a temporary basis; despite what some in the High Command believed they were not children who couldn't take care of themselves. While it was true that they were a young race and were still relative newcomers to the galactic scene, they were more than capable of looking after themselves. They'd proven that when they'd stood up to the raiding parties of the Nausicaan Republic before chasing the thuggish aliens all the way back to Nausica Prime itself while destroying any military forces the Nausicaan's sent to try and stop them. After forcing the Nausicaan government to surrender they'd surrounded the planet with a blockade force of ships and high yield mines, a blockade that they'd maintained for the better part of twenty years now.

There had to be another reason for her assignment it if wasn't to act as a caretaker/observer. She wondered if the Klingons had something to do with it, but again that didn't make sense. Despite Ambassador Tos' warnings to Admiral Forrest and company during the meeting at Starfleet Medical, there was very little chance of war between the Terran Alliance and the Klingon Empire. The interstellar distance between the two powers was simply too vast for a war of conquest to be even remotely practical. The Klingons would be well aware of that fact and as illogically aggressive as they were they wouldn't want to risk overextending themselves, the most they would mount would be occasional raids. Especially now Vulcan Intelligence had reports indicating that there was considerable civil strife in the empire at this time - even by Klingon standards, the civil situation in the Empire was bad

So what was the real reason for the High Command pushing for her assignment to _Enterprise_? Did her Ministry of Security training have something to do with it? Did they want her to act as some sort of spy amongst them? The Terran Alliance had been friendly to the Vulcan Confederation for decades; it was illogical to believe that would change anytime soon. _Maybe the fact that the Andorians have made formal contact with them has something to do with it,_ T'Pol mused thoughtfully, well aware of the fact that the Andorian Empire had recently entered into a number of different diplomatic overtures with the Terran Alliance. She was also well aware that some in the High Command suspected that the Andorians were trying to lure the Earth away from Vulcan for their own purposes.

After a moment, T'Pol gave the Vulcan equivalent of a mental sigh. She didn't really have enough information to form a logical conclusion to explain the High Commands behaviour. Whatever the reason was it was immaterial to her situation, she'd was to serve on a Terran starship, to live and work alongside a highly emotional species for a few months at the very least. It was going to be a challenging experience she knew, especially given how humans were a mass of bitterly confusing contradictions at any given moment, but at the same time it was one she was looking forward to. No Vulcan had ever spent a long period on a Terran starship before; maybe her doing so would give her people a new insight into the culture and nature of the frequently confusingly illogical humans, a species that even after seventy-one years of contact still defied the High Commands best efforts to classify them.

T'Pol pushed aside her thoughts on the matter as she arrived at the corridor junction for the Starfleet wing of the spaceport. It wasn't easy to miss, two duranium alloy doors inset with transparent aluminium windows with the arrowhead seal of Starfleet engraved in the surfaces, made up the entrance. Plus standing on either side of the entrance like status were two MACO's, though they were lightly armed with phased plasma pistols and shock batons and wearing perfectly tailored grey and brown uniforms as opposed to the more bulky and intimidating body armour they wore when engaged in operations. Glancing at the MACO's T'Pol found herself admiring their discipline as they stood perfectly still more like status than sentient beings. Neither batted an eye nor showed any reaction at all to her as she approached the doors, which opened automatically at her approach. Yet the movement of their eyes as they tracked her indicated that they were well aware of her presence and she was well aware that they would not hesitate to challenge her if they believed her to be a threat.

Leaving the MACO's behind her walked into the lobby of Starfleet terminal; it was considerably quieter than the rest of the spaceport where there was a near constant hubbub of voices talking in dozens of languages both alien and human. Here voices were muted, though T'Pol was aware that a number of a number of Starfleet personnel sitting around stopping talking to look at her in surprise. It was understandable. To her knowledge no Vulcan had ever been in the Starfleet terminal before, it was rare for them to even use this spaceport as the Vulcan Embassy had its own shuttle landing pad and few Vulcans beyond diplomats and scientists ever visited Earth.

After a moment, the shock wore off and all the humans in the room began talking at once, either resuming previous conversations or talking about her presence here. T'Pol paid them no mind as she approached the desk and the young officer on duty there. To his credit, he was all business the moment he saw her – despite his obvious surprise at her presence.

"Name and rank," the officer asked.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol," T'Pol answered before fishing in her duffle bag and taking out her identification card, which also contained her orders to report to _Enterprise_. She handed it to the officer who took it from her without comment.

"Look into the retinal scanner for me please, Sub-Commander," he said while slotting the card into a reader and bringing the data up on his console. T'Pol did as instructed looking into a scope like device; she consciously worked to prevent both her inner and outer eyelids from closing as a blue scanning beam similar to a discos laser fan light shone in her eyes from the device. It only lasted a moment, which was all the time the beam needed to scan her retina and the unique pattern of blood vessels at the back of her eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear the yellow after image from her vision, she pulled back.

After a moment of checking the console, the Starfleet officer at the reception desk looked up. "Identity and orders confirmed, Sub-Commander," he said removing the card from the reader and handing it back to T'Pol. "The shuttle to the orbital shipyards leaves from platform a fourteen in ten minutes."

"Thank you, ensign," T'Pol replied finally noticing the number of rank pips the young Terran was wearing.

"You're welcome," the ensign replied while operating the control panels in front of him. Behind and to the right of the reception desk, a door slid open with a faint humming of magnetic power, a door that led to the rest of the terminal. Without hesitation, T'Pol walked around the reception desk and through into the rest of the facility. After checking the large plasma display screen just beyond the door to find out which platform A14 was, she started walking, heading for the platform and the shuttle that would take her to the orbital shipyards and _Enterprise_.

Platform A14 was not that difficult to find, though it was at the far end of the terminal from the reception area. The moving walkways in the terminal made short work of the distance, arriving outside the entrance to the platform T'Pol saw more signs that it was the shuttle to her destination. Standing or sitting around in the waiting area before the doors were a large number of Terran soldiers. Most were Starfleet personnel in there familiar blue uniforms – two piece uniforms for officers and coverall-like jumpsuits for enlisted personnel – but there were a handful of MACO's present as well, like her the different colour and style of their uniforms making them stand out in the crowd of blue.

As with at the reception area the hubbub of conversation stopped dead in its tracks when the assembled personnel noticed her, and as she had earlier T'Pol ignored them. Instead she settled down in a free seat, putting her duffle bag down in front of her legs, before extracting a Vulcan computer pad – modified to be compatible with Terran wi-fi and computer technologies – from a pocket on it and flicking the device on. Conversation resumed around her as she brought up the files she'd downloaded at the embassy over the last two days. Most of them were information files on Terran society and culture. What to expect from them in close quarters over a long period of time, and pointers from many a Vulcan diplomats personnel records on how to deal successfully with highly emotional species – and Terrans in particular – on a one-to-one, day-to-day basis.

However, a few were very different and related to one Commander Charles Anthony Tucker the Third. T'Pol clearly remembered how he'd reacted to Klaang when he'd seen him, the subtle almost unnoticeable change in body posture that came with tensing muscles, it was almost like he'd been preparing for a possible confrontation with the Klingon warrior – even though Klaang had been, and still was, unconscious. It had piqued her interest at the time and what she'd discovered so far had only increased her interest in him and the mystery he presented.

When she'd accessed Starfleet's personnel database and pulled his file it had not provided much of an explanation for his reaction. Instead, it had only given a few terms she didn't recognise and a lot of biometric and physiological data that made little sense as it seemed to be very contradictory and confusing. If she'd interpreted it right, then Charles Tucker was strong, very strong indeed stronger by far than any human should be, easily superior in strength to most other humanoid species. The data had also indicated he was intelligent, possessing an eidetic memory and a very high IQ even by Vulcan standards as well as having a projected lifespan that was more like a Vulcans average two centuries than the average hundred and thirty years that most others of his race did.

All in all her soon-to-be shipmate was a puzzle and one she would enjoy solving. Quiet database investigations on her part over the last two days – though she'd briefly stopped to get her few belongings ready when Ambassador Soval informed her of the High Commands orders – had revealed that Commander Tucker was not alone. In Starfleet, the MACO's and in the general Terran population there were a great many individuals and families with some or all of the exact same physiological traits and that there were more every generation. Overall, it told T'Pol that something was happening to the humans at a genetic level, changing them slowly, but the question was what and what were they slowly becoming? Whatever it was she was sure that the answer would be fascinating.

"So you're the Vulcan whose been assigned to our ship," a female voice said abruptly from beside her drawing T'Pol's attention. Not just by the question but by the fact that it had been spoken in flawless Vulcan. Looking in the direction the voice had come from she found herself face to face with a young female human of Asian descent who wore the two-piece blue of a Starfleet officer with the rank pips of an ensign.

"I am," she answered speaking in Terran standard. "I was not aware that anyone on the crew spoke Vulcan."

The young woman smiled. "I'm a linguist," she replied. "I can speak a couple of alien languages along with most human ones."

"Impressive," T'Pol commented. "And you are?"

"Oh right," the ensign got a chagrined look on her face. "Sorry I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Ensign Hoshi Sato; I'm the senior communications officer and linguist on _Enterprise._"

"Sub-Commander T'Pol, it is agreeable to meet you, ensign," T'Pol answered.

"Likewise," Hoshi replied. "I'm sorry for interrupting you but I was just curious about you. I've never met a Vulcan face-to-face before."

"It's quite alright," T'Pol assured her. "Maybe you can help me."

"I will if I can," Hoshi said with a warm smile. "But first we better board the shuttle."

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed mentally berating herself for getting lost in the pads contents and not noticing that the doors to the shuttle platform had opened. Naturally, none of her inward irritation showed on her face the iron-hard control she maintained on the tempestuous emotions that were every Vulcans secret curse prevented that. Instead, with the picture of normal Vulcan calm she stood up, picked up her duffle bag and headed through the doors, with Hoshi following closely behind her.

The shuttle that would be taking them up to the shipyards appeared to be a variant of the Skylark-class interplanetary shuttle T'Pol noticed as she boarded. She wasn't surprised, the Skylark-class was a highly versatile and successful shuttle design, one that Terran astroengineering companies sold on dozens of worlds both inside and outside Terran controlled space. However, unlike the Skylark's she'd ridden on occasionally in the past this one was clearly a military variant. The two rows of seats were considerably less comfortable than on civilian operated Skylarks. The viewing ports were smaller, and a glance through them revealed that they were both multilayered and that the shuttles hull was thicker – presumably the ship had at least one additional layer of hull plating presumably of the duranium-carbon nanomesh composite alloy that Starfleet used in the hull of its spacecraft. T'Pol suspected that if she looked at the outside of the craft she'd see that the craft was armed as most Starfleet craft were, only worker bee inspection pods were unarmed or even armoured.

Paying the shuttles obvious military nature no further thought she went to the closest available seat, stowed her duffle bag in the overhead rack, before sitting down. After a moment Hoshi sat down next to her.

"What can I help you with, Sub-Commander," Hoshi asked.

"I have discovered something of a mystery regarding Commander Tucker, perhaps you can help me understand it," T'Pol replied before explaining some of what she'd found out about the commander. As she detailed the physiological information she'd uncovered a faint smile and knowing look appeared on the younger woman's face.

"He's an augment," Hoshi explained.

"An augment," T'Pol questioned raising an eyebrow in surprise she'd never heard the term augment applied to a living being before, let alone a sapient one like a Terran.

Hoshi nodded. "It means he's someone who has been genetically enhanced," she explained, "augments are smarter, stronger and usually live twice as long as a normal human."

"I was not aware that your species practiced that kind of genetic engineering," T'Pol exclaimed in a quiet Vulcan fashion she was stunned. No species she knew of practiced that sort of genetic engineering/enhancement, it was considered by almost every sentient species she knew of to be distasteful. Even the Denobulans – who were known to be skilled in genetic engineering – considered such extreme genetically manipulation or alteration to be fundamentally unethical. The fact that Terrans practiced it – and no one had ever caught onto them doing it – was deeply disturbing on any number of levels.

"We don't at least we don't anymore. These days genetic engineering is only used to cure illness or prevent it by turning off or repairing faulty genes in utero, though I've heard it's occasionally used on some of our colonies to help the colonists cope with the environmental conditions of the planet in question more easily," Hoshi answered before looking embarrassed. "However that wasn't always the case, there was a time when genetic engineering and genetic augmentation was practiced on a large scale. Modern augments like Commander Tucker are a legacy from that era, one that will never go away given how many of them there are and that augment genetic traits are dominant over normal ones."

"Interesting," T'Pol commented with a raised eyebrow. _That explains why there are more Terrans with some or all of these enhanced traits with each generation,_ she thought, _this augment DNA being dominant is spreading widely through the races gene pool and thus manifesting in more and more individuals as time goes on._ She made a quick mental note to recommend that the Vulcan Science Directorate make it a point to monitor Terran genetics over the next few generations to see what the long term effects would be and what change the augment traits would bring about in the species_._ She was sure it would make a most fascinating study for her people's xenogeneticists.

"I would like to learn more about this," she added after a moment. "How exactly did these augments came to exist? What made your ancestors use genetic science in a fashion that every sentient species in the known galaxy considers extremely unethical?"

"It's a very long story and one that we generally don't talk about even among ourselves let alone with other species," Hoshi admitted. "But if you review the historical database files on augments then you'll get the answers you seek, you should also look at the files relating to Khan Noonian Singh and the Eugenics War and the Optimum Movement."

"I see," T'Pol replied. "Thank you, ensign."

"You're welcome, one last piece of advice however."

"Oh?"

"I'd suggest you not speak about the Optimum Movement to other humans," Hoshi advised. "Like the Nazi's of the early to mid twentieth century they're not people we really like to talk about, especially as they were one of the biggest contributing factors to the Third World War and the eight hundred and fifty million people who died in that conflict. Though it's been over a hundred years since the Optimum Movement fell they still stir strong emotional reactions in many of my people. Especially as there are some people still alive who remember what they did."

"I will bear that in mind," T'Pol answered, though inwardly she was a little startled. She hadn't realised that it had only been just over a hundred years since the nuclear war that had killed so many humans and devastated their homeworld as one had her own world before the Age of Awakening when the great philosopher Surak had finally ended the savage times – and the rule of those who walked under the raptors wings – with his teachings of peace and logic. To look at the Terrans and their homeworld now you would not think that such an atomic horror had occurred here, so complete was the reconstruction – the only lingering affect being slightly higher than normal background radiation levels in many of the planets great cities. What had taken her people nearly a thousand years to accomplish the humans had done in less than a century, which was by anyone's standards a very impressive achievement. Though it was one that was wholly in the character of the species, they possessed a drive, energy and determination that few species her race had encountered had ever possessed.

"That's all I can ask," Hoshi replied a moment before an increasing humming sound echoed through the shuttle as its engines powered up. After a moment a faint shiver ran through the deck as the shuttle lifted off and began its journey up to orbit.

"Here we go," Hoshi said softly before taking a small reader pad out of one of her uniform pockets and starting to read the book she'd downloaded onto it this morning. She'd never been a good passenger on a shuttle, the knowledge that there were literally only a few centimetres of duranium between her and the unforgiving, bitterly cold vacuum of space conspiring to turn her into a nervous wreck. It had almost gotten her thrown out of the academy on more than one occasion, until one of her exasperated instructors took pity on her and suggested that she find something to distract herself during shuttle flights in the future. The history of linguistics book on the pad would provide that distraction.

T'Pol observed Hoshi for a moment as the young human got into whatever it was she was reading, before turning her attention to the information on Commander Tucker. Thanks to Ensign Sato she now understood the odd physiological differences the man had, though that did not explain his reaction to Klaang. _Maybe further investigation of augment humans will reveal the answer,_ she thought. Whatever the explanation turned out to be she was sure it would be fascinating.

* * *

**TAS Enterprise**

**A Short Time Later**

Captain Jonathan Archer had to work hard to keep a goofy grin off his face as he walked down the corridors and hallways of _Enterprise_. For the first time since he'd first seen the interior of _Enterprise_ several months ago there were no open panels, no incomplete bulkheads filling the corridors of the ship. At long last _Enterprise_ looked like a ship and not a building site. It was nice to see that everything was ready, that all the hard work Trip and the engineering teams, with assistance from the yard dogs had paid off. Against all odds _Enterprise_ was as ready for launch as she would ever be. He was looking forward to stretching her legs and his own; it would feel good to be travelling at warp speed again after being stuck in the Sol System for the last several months.

_Now all we need are for the last of the crew to arrive,_ he thought as he passed through an open bulkhead door – one of many that divided the ship up into sections. Sections that could in an emergency be completely sealed off and isolated from the rest of the ship. The last of the crew – including Sub-Commander T'Pol, whose appointment to this vessel still grated on him somewhat – were already on the way here. The officer of the watch had called him in his ready room to report that sensors had detected a Skylark-class personnel shuttle coming up from San Francisco, matching orbits with the orbital shipyards. Jonathan was well aware that that shuttle would soon dock with the station and that a short time after that the last of his crew would be aboard. Once that was done they would only have the formalities of the christening ceremony to get through – which wouldn't take long – before slipping moorings and heading out into the galaxy.

Rounding a bend in the corridor his destination came in sight. The transparent aluminium and duranium doors of sickbay – easily noticeable both by the extensive use of the transparent material and medicines traditional symbol – the caduceus – engraved in the surface of the super-strong, glass-like material. The doors opened automatically at his approach and he slipped into the brightly lit compartment beyond.

It was a surprisingly contradictory compartment, somehow giving the impression of space and being cramped at the same time. The walls were all a soft off-white composite panelling that was designed to be soothing to the eye. Around one wall stretched a bench on which sat a variety of medical instruments – as well as an array of cages in which were creatures of all manner of descriptions. _Now I know what Trip meant when he mentioned at breakfast this morning that there was something of a menagerie in here,_ Jonathan thought looking at the bizarre array of creatures, some truly weird looking, before gazing around at the rest of the room.

Standing in the centre was the main biobed and diagnostic unit – which vaguely resembled the ancient magnetic resonance image scanners of the late twentieth, early twenty-first century, though the resemblance was only cosmetic. The diagnostic unit was far, far more advanced than a simple MRI scanner. Strangely a panel was open at the base of the unit – with a pair of blue clothed legs sticking out of it, with a toolkit open next to them. As Jonathan watched a hand appeared, groped around for a pair of wire cutters before disappearing back into the unit. _Must not be working, that or with everything the engineers have been doing they haven't gotten around to wiring it into the power grid until now,_ he thought, before completing his examination of the rest of the room. There wasn't much to see beyond a handful of biobeds – that could be curtained off for privacy – and a door in the wall that would lead off to the doctor's office, isolation rooms, medical storage room, main surgical bay and a ward.

At that moment Doctor Phlox appeared out of that corridor, the Denobulan blinking when he saw him.

"Greetings, captain," he said warmly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, no nothing," Jonathan replied. "We're only a few hours from launch now. So I thought I'd drop by to make sure that you were settling in okay, and to check if our 'guest' is comfortable."

"I have, Klaang secured in one of the isolation chambers," Phlox replied. "He's resting comfortably in a medically induced coma. An orderly will be monitoring him at all times, though I do wish, Major Reed hadn't insisted on assigning a guard – at least he assigned one with field medic training so she'll at least be useful if the need arises. As for myself, I'm settling in quite well."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jonathan answered ignoring the comment about Malcolm Reed assigning a MACO guard to sickbay – the good major had cleared it with him first, stating it was a sensible precaution and one he'd agreed with, given the information he'd read on the Klingons as provided by the Vulcans. "I hope you don't mind me asking for you to be assigned to this ship."

"Not at all," Phlox assured him with one of the impossibly wide smiles Denobulans were capable of. "Yours is a fascinating species, captain. There is much to be learned, my being here will only accelerate the learning process for both of our peoples. That is after all the whole point of the Interspecies Medical Exchange."

Jonathan nodded in agreement and was about to open his mouth when the diagnostic unit hummed to life catching his attention. Its plasma display screen flicked on showing computer code for a moment as the system went through its start up procedures, before changing to the main diagnostic screen.

"There you go, doc," Trip's muffled voice abruptly said a second before the engineer himself appeared from the access panel. He blinked in surprise when he saw Jonathan, having not heard his friend's voice as he'd been surrounded by the humming of power conduits for the last ten minutes or so wiring the diagnostic unit up. "Oh hey, cap."

"Trip," Jonathan acknowledged. "What are you…?"

"Just wiring this thing into the ships power grid," Trip explained as he stretched to loosen up muscles that had cramped in the limited space of the access panel. "With everything else that's been going on it kind of got forgotten about. So I left, Kelby in charge of warming up the reactor in engineering and came and sorted it out myself."

"And I am grateful, commander," Phlox replied. "Would you mind hopping up onto the bed for me a minute, so I can run a test scan."

"Sure," Trip answered before putting his tools back in the toolkit and hopping up on the bed. He laid down flat as the Denobulan doctor moved to the diagnostic units control panel and instructed it to run a basic physiological scan. Immediately the main biobed retracted into the unit and the silver door slid shut.

For a moment nothing happened then an amazingly detailed image of a human body appeared on the display screens along with a number of biometric readings, including Trip's weight, height, body fat percentage, muscle density, resting heart rate and so on. Phlox's eyebrows shot up at some of the readings as they were completely different from what he would have expected them to be.

"This must need recalibrating," he said a frown appearing on his face at the thought of the work involved in recalibrating something as complex as the diagnostic unit. "Some of these readings are way outside of the normal range for a Terran of Commander Tucker's size and weight."

"Its perfectly fine doc," Jonathan informed him, glancing at the readings and knowing what they meant, he'd seen Trip's bio-readings a few times in the past. "Any diagnostic scanner anywhere would give the same readings for, Trip. It's because of what he is that its spitting back those readings."

For a moment Phlox looked at him in confusing then understanding dawned as he remembered the details that he'd been given on Terran biology and genetics when he'd joined the IME. Details that had given extensive physiological information about both the standard run-of-the mill humans and the genetically enhanced ones who formed there own sub-species. He hadn't realised that Commander Tucker belonged to that sub-species, but then he hadn't finished reading all the crews physiological details yet. There were a lot to go through given that _Enterprise_ had a total crew compliment of two hundred and twenty-five.

"I see, I haven't read all the crews physiological profiles yet," Phlox replied before pressing another control, "my apologies."

As he spoke the door to the diagnostic unit opened and the biobed slid back out. Immediately Trip jumped off before shivering. "Man I hate it in there," he said. "Feels like being in a coffin."

"They do at that, Trip," Jonathan agreed having been put in diagnostic units before. It was never a pleasant experience, even for people who didn't suffer from the psychological condition known as claustrophobia. "At least you didn't freak out in there like some people I've known."

"True," Trip acknowledged before turning to Phlox. "Anything else I can help you with, doc?"

"Not right now, thank you," Phlox replied. "You can go now if you wish."

"Anything you need, cap?" Trip asked looking over at his old academy friend turned commanding officer and seeing the excitement in Jon's eyes. Most people would have missed it, but he'd long ago learned how to read one Jonathan Archer's body language, just as Jon knew how to read him. He knew that despite the outward calm, Jonathan was practically bouncing with excitement at the knowledge that they'd soon be underway. He couldn't blame him – he himself couldn't wait to hear the pulsating humming of the warp reactor as it harnessed the awesome energies of matter-antimatter mutual annihilation, and feel the thrum of warp speed in the deck plates.

"Not at the moment, Trip," Jonathan replied.

"Okay," Trip answered before picking up the composite panel that normally covered the access to the diagnostic units systems and easily fitting it back into place. Once that was done he rounded up the last of his tools, picked up the toolkit and left to return to engineering.

"Bridge to Captain Archer," Lieutenant Paulson's voice abruptly said from the comm. panel on the wall beside the diagnostic unit. Jon took a step around Phlox and pressed a button on the offending device.

"Archer, go."

"Shipyard Security just hailed us, sir," Paulson replied from his position of officer of the watch on the ships bridge. "The last of the crew and Sub-Commander T'Pol will be at our number one starboard airlock in five minutes."

"Understood, Archer out," Jon answered before flicking off the comm. and turning to look at Phlox. "If you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave of you now, doctor."

"Of course," Phlox replied with another of the seemingly jaw breaking smiles his race was famous for. Jonathan gave a more modest, typically human smile back before leaving the Denobulan alone with only his little menagerie of creatures for company.

* * *

**Starboard Airlock One**

**TAS Enterprise**

**A Few Minutes Later**

Major Malcolm Reed stood in the parade rest stance as he waited patiently in the antechamber of the ships number one starboard airlock. Standing with him off to the side stood Master Chief Petty Officer Johan Borgerson, the senior non-commissioned officer – or non-com for short – on board _Enterprise,_ and the man whose job it was to keep enlisted crew in line.

"Where are they," Johan muttered irritation in his thick, Norwegian accent as he gazed at the thick, reinforced duranium door between them and the airlock chamber itself.

"Very likely still on there way here from shipyards shuttle docking bays," Malcolm replied. "Remember chief the station is over fifteen kilometres across, even using the internal maglev system it would take some time for the people we're waiting for to get to our airlock. Assuming they haven't gotten lost, as you know as well as I that the shipyard is a maze – especially to those who've never been onboard before."

Johan sighed. "I suppose you're right, sir," he admitted as doors to the rest of the ship opened with an almost inaudible humming sound. "Its still frustrating that they're not here yet."

"Problems, gentlemen," Jonathan Archer asked as he joined them. At the sound of his voice MACO and non-com alike snapped to attention. "Stand easy," Jonathan instructed and watched both men slip back into the parade rest stance. "Now is there a problem?"

"No sir," Johan replied. "I was just…"

"…waiting for the last of the crew to come onboard," Jonathan finished. "It will only be another few minutes chief if that. We both know how big the station is and how it can be difficult for first timers to find the correct slipway."

"That's what, Major Reed said," Johan admitted with the ghost of a smile on his habitually serious face.

Jonathan smiled faintly back. He kind of liked the big, Norwegian senior non-com; the man was efficient and very good at keeping crewmen and the other non-coms in line only involving officers in disciplinary matters when absolutely necessary. _If only he would learn to lighten up a bit around me,_ he thought, _sometimes talking to him is like talking to, Malcolm. He calls be sir even off duty._

"Well he's right," he said aloud a moment before a light appeared on one of the airlock status board. The airlock was cycling; even though they were docked with the shipyard station the airlock would still not allow both doors to be open at once. Safety systems built into the airlock from the moment of manufacture made it physically impossible for both sets of doors to be open at once. "Talk of the devil, here they come."

"Yes sir," Malcolm agreed moving into position to his commanding officers right side, noting with approval that Chief Borgerson was doing the same to Archer's left. None of the three of them were small men; they'd present quite the welcoming committee to the people coming through from the station. Just to be on the safe side – though it was unlikely the people coming through would be hostile – Malcolm's hand drifted down to the holster of the phased plasma pistol he wore in a thigh holster on his right leg. It was a habit he hadn't even tried to break as bitter experience had taught him to be both cautious and ready for absolutely anything.

The heavy duranium door opened with a humming sound and a hiss of pressure as the door was designed to form an airtight seal should there ever be a malfunction with the airlock that could lead to the airlock chamber decompressing. As soon as the door finished opening the last crew members they were waiting for piled through. Immediately seeing the greeting party the Starfleet and MACO personnel snapped to attention. The only one who didn't was the one who obviously stood out most in the crowd, and that was Sub-Commander T'Pol.

"Stand easy," Archer instructed. "Welcome aboard, _Enterprise_."

"Thank you sir," all the Starfleet and MACO personnel chorused in unison. Amid the crowd T'Pol fought the impulse to wince at the sudden noise as it was irritating to her ears, given that Vulcan hearing was considerably more acute than most humans.

"I could give a speech here," Archer continued. "However I dislike such things so I won't force you to stand here and listen to me waffling on – unlike some people we all know," as he spoke most of the humans chuckled or snorted in amusement, "and I know your all eager to get settled in and to your posts before departure. So here is what is going to happen. All Starfleet personnel will follow Chief Borgerson here; he'll see that you all get to your assigned billets. All MACO personnel go with Major Reed who will do the same for you. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"Good, Sub-Commander T'Pol?"

"Yes, captain," T'Pol answered stepping out of the crowd.

"Come with me please," Archer answered. "We have a great deal to talk about and there is not much time."

"Of course sir," T'Pol replied, hoping she was giving the correct response to an order, one veiled but an order nevertheless.

Archer gave a small smile and made a mental note to explain to T'Pol Terran military etiquette and how to correctly respond to an order on a Starfleet ship. Since they were both stuck with each other for awhile, she might as well learn how to interact correctly with the rest of the crew, and especially himself. _There will be time for that later,_ he thought before turning to Major Reed and Chief Borgerson.

"Carry on here, gentlemen," he ordered.

"Aye sir," Malcolm and Johan responded in near unison.

"Come along, T'Pol," Archer said before turning around and leaving the compartment. T'Pol for her part immediately adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder and followed her new commanding officer into the corridors of the _Enterprise_.

* * *

**A Few Hours Later**

Sub-Commander T'Pol had to work to suppress a most un-Vulcan feeling of nerves as she stepped out of the turbolift and onto the _Enterprise's_ bridge for the first time. She'd spent the last few hours in her quarters, settling in and reviewing the duties she would be expected to perform onboard. To say that she was surprised that Captain Archer had assigned her both the chief science and first officer positions would have been understatement. In all honesty she'd expected to spend a lot of her time onboard in her assigned quarters given how the High Command had used politics to badger Starfleet into agreeing to her assignment here.

Though she didn't mind the additional duties, despite her intelligence training from the Ministry of Security she was at heart a scientist and diplomat. Though the sensors on this ship were primitive by Vulcan standards she was looking forward to getting to use them and being second in command was going to be an interesting experience to say the least. But one she welcomed as it would give her a good opportunity to observe and interact with the crew, which could only help Vulcan interactions with Terrans in general. Though what she'd observed already was strange – like the ships christening ceremony, the purpose of breaking a bottle of a carbonated alcoholic spirit – Champaign she believed it to be called - over the ships bow just before launching was somewhat bemusing. It seemed to have no real logical purpose, but then humans weren't the most logical beings in the galaxy.

Putting aside the thoughts on the christening ceremony she glanced around the bridge. It was surprisingly logically designed. Circular in design with five primary crew stations, down the starboard side of the bridge were the tactical and engineering/damage control stations, directly opposite them on the port side were the science and communications stations. The combined helm/navigation station sat at the front of the bridge just below the view screen and in a slightly lower level. Directly in line with the view screen in the centre of the bridge was the command chair on a slightly raised dais so the commanding officer or officer of the watch could have a commanding view of the entire bridge. Behind the command chair against the wall were three backup stations that could be configured for different tasks as the need arose.

T'Pol took it all in, in the literal blink of an eye before turning her attention to the command chair as it rotated to look at her, revealing Captain Archer – his attention having been drawn by the sound of the turbolift doors opening. A faint smile teased the humans lips before he addressed her.

"Right on time, Sub-Commander," he said. "I like that. Are you ready for this?"

"I am, sir."

"Very well, attend your station," Archer ordered.

"Aye sir," T'Pol replied recalling what she'd been told on her journey from the airlock to her quarters on how to respond to an order on a Terran ship. Though she wasn't a Starfleet officer it was logical to follow the Terran military etiquette for such things now that she was aware of what that etiquette was. Without speaking further she moved to the science station and began familiarising herself with its layout.

Jonathan Archer watched her for a few moments, as the Vulcan familiarised herself with the console and adjusted the settings slightly more to her liking. She certainly seemed to be efficient; maybe having her onboard would not be so difficult after all. After a moment he turned his attention to the bigger picture.

"All stations report," he ordered.

"Helm ready," Ensign Travis Mayweather responded from the helm.

"Communications ready," Ensign Sato answered.

"Science ready," T'Pol said in her turn.

"Engineering ready," a young lieutenant whose name Archer still didn't know answered from the engineering/damage control station.

"Tactical ready," Major Reed answered from his own station.

"Ensign Sato, contact the station and traffic control," Archer ordered "request permission for departure."

"Aye sir," Hoshi answered keeping the nervousness she was feeling inside out of her voice with a great deal of effort. She could hardly believe this was happening at last, that she was going into space again, this time as a fully qualified officer. With a professional calmness drilled into her over the last few years of training she relayed the departure request to both the shipyard control room and system traffic control. For a few moments nothing happened then responses from both parties came in.

"Departure clearance granted, sir," she reported. "Station control says good luck. We're clear for outbound departure on bearing two-two-seven mark three-one-nine, transferring outbound vector to helm."

"Confirmed, I have the vector," Travis answered.

"Very well, Mr Mayweather disengage all umbilical's and clear all moorings," Archer ordered. Travis complied pressing a couple of buttons on his console, and watched his screens. One by one the screens showed the umbilical, mooring lines and arms holding _Enterprise_ immobile in the slipway retracting allowing the starship to float freely in the dock.

"Umbilical's and moorings retracted, sir," he reported.

"Then lets get moving," Archer answered. "Aft thrusters to one quarter, Mr Mayweather port and starboard thrusters at station keeping until we clear shipyard space, once we're clear engage the impulse drives and take us out to warp clearance."

"Aye sir."

* * *

On the rear edges of the aft sections of the engineering and saucer sections of the _Enterprise_ small blue ion manoeuvring thrusters flared into life. For a few moments nothing happened but then the ship began to move, slowly at first as the thrusters had to fight inertia caused by the sheer mass of the vessel but with increasing speed. Observed by space suited yard dogs that'd spent so long building her the _Enterprise_ slipped out of the slipway that had been her home for so long.

Within two minutes the starship was floating freely in open space, her main impulse drives powered up, the advanced magnetoplasmadynamic engines expelling ionised plasma particles into space at a significant fraction of light speed. Propelled by the enormous force of her engines _Enterprise_ shot forward accelerating rapidly to her maximum sub light speed of .6c. Under the skilful hands of her helmsman the newly commissioned starship threaded her way through the busy space lanes around Earth and her moon. Following the course vector subscribed by system traffic control _Enterprise_ cleared the worst of the shipping and slipped into clear space as she headed out system.

Over the next twenty minutes the great ship headed outwards, moving further and further away from Earth towards the outer regions of the solar system where she would be safe to go to warp speed. Though it was fully possible for ships to go into warp in the inner regions of a star system it wasn't recommended as the stronger gravitational influences in core of a star system affected subspace, causing extreme drag on a ships engines, drag that could at its worst rip warp nacelles clean off – with catastrophic results.

* * *

**Bridge**

**TAS Enterprise**

Captain Jonathan Archer had to work hard to keep a goofy grin off his face as he observed the solar system flying past outside. It felt good to finally be underway, heading out system to the location beyond Jupiter where it would be safe to engage the warp engines. The high resolution display of the screen made the great gas giant and the heavily volcanic Io – the only moon they could see on this vector – look completely spectacular.

"Captain we're approaching our warp clearance coordinates," Travis reported.

"Understood," Jon replied before toggling the comm. unit build into the arm of his chair. "Bridge to engineering."

"Engineering, go ahead," Trip's voice answered immediately.

"Trip we're approaching the warp clearance threshold, what's the status of our warp drive?"

"Warmed up and ready to go cap," Trip answered and Jon could hear the smile in his friend's voice "though I recommend that we don't exceed warp three for the next few hours, until we can complete a couple of tests."

"Understood, bridge out," Jon acknowledged before closing the channel and once again addressing Travis. "Mr Mayweather, set course for the Klingon border engage at warp three."

"Aye sir," Travis replied keeping his features and voice calm while inwardly he was jumping for joy. Since coming to Earth to attend Starfleet Academy he'd missed the sound and feel of a ship at warp, something that had been such a fixture of his life on the _Horizon_. Such a fixture in fact that he hadn't realised how much he liked it until it wasn't there anymore, the training flights he'd been on had only given short refreshers of the feeling of FTL travel.

Calmly he aligned _Enterprise_ onto her course before inputting the command to engage the warp drive. For a moment nothing happened then a faint humming sound and a very faint vibration in the deck plates began to make its presence known. For a millisecond the humming and vibration continued as the ship gathered her power. Then with breathtaking suddenness the ship leapt forward, turning the view screen feed into a blur of colours that momentarily gave way to a brilliant flash of light as the _Enterprise_ broke the warp barrier. The light faded and gave way to the streaks of light going past as the ship continued to accelerate to speeds many times that of light.

"We're at warp two," Travis reported. "Two point three, point five, point seven, warp three, holding steady at warp three."

"Very good," Jon said leaning back in his command chair and feeling a profound feeling of triumph and vindication. This was proof that all the hard work over the last few days had truly paid off, _Enterprise_ was fully functional and on route to the Klingon Empire. They'd completed one challenge another was now beginning.

And he was so looking forward to tackling it.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

_Captain's Log: May 10th 2151_

_We have been underway for two weeks now and I am pleased to note that after some initial teething troubles the ship and crew are functioning well. It is just as well as Mr Mayweather informs me that we have reached the outer most sectors of our territory and will pass into the borderlands within another day. I have to admit the prospect of taking Enterprise into such a volatile and lawless region of space gives me some concern however necessary our passage through the region is, we will after all be one ship cut off from immediate reinforcements should we run into trouble. Both Major Reed and Commander Tucker assure me that all our defensive and weapons systems are fully operational and that we will be able to defend ourselves should the need arise when we enter the borderlands. However, I find myself still concerned about how the new generation phase cannons will perform. To put my mind at rest I have ordered a course change to an asteroid field point three light years away to test the effectiveness of our weapons systems and to ensure all our tactical systems have been calibrated correctly. We should reach it in another two hours._

_On another note, Doctor Phlox has informed me that he cannot safely keep, Klaang in a medically induced coma for much longer. I have to admit that I am a little uneasy about having the Klingon awake when we are still just over two months at warp five from the outer frontier of the Klingon Empire. However if I want Klaang to get there alive and healthy I have no other choice but to allow, Phlox to revive him. I've had T'Pol prepare proper quarters for our guest and Major Reed has already agreed to post a guard to keep an eye on our passenger at all times while he remains onboard this ship or until he earns our trust, whichever comes first._

Captain Jonathan Archer sighed as he concluded his log entry he read it over once again before saving it to the ships records. As he'd said in the log entry, he wasn't thrilled by the idea of having the Klingon up and about on his ship when they were still so far from the Klingon Empire's borders. He kept remembering that, Klaang's first action when encountering a Terran had been to withdraw a wicked looking knife and attempt to kill the farmer whose land he'd crashed on and been chased through by unknown aliens. That seemingly reflexive, aggressive behaviour on top of the very thorough Vulcan dossier on the Klingons meant he believed he had very good reason to be cautious.

Unfortunately as he'd stated in the log he had no choice but to allow Klaang to be brought out of his medically induced coma. Phlox had made it quite clear to him that while Klingons were physiologically tough and very robust they did have certain weaknesses in comparison to other species. One of these weaknesses was that Klingon neural pathways were more vulnerable to damage by certain drugs over time. According to Phlox if he kept Klaang under for much longer then he would begin suffering neurological damage, especially as his nervous system had only just recovered from the trauma of the massive disruptive electromagnetic shock that Klaang had sustained when blasted at point blank range by Mr Moore's plasma rifle. Letting Klaang die after all they'd had to do to get to this point just would not do, they had to wake him. _Doesn't mean I have to like it though,_ Jon thought with a mental sigh.

At that moment the desk comm. panel chirped. "Sickbay to Captain Archer," Phlox's voice said from the small grill.

Sighing softly Jonathan pressed a button on the device. "Yes doctor?" he asked.

"I'm ready to revive our guest now captain," Phlox answered. "I've alerted Ensign Sato, she's on her way down with the translator now."

"Very well, doctor, I'll be right there," Jonathan, replied before signing off. After a moment, he pressed the intercom button again. "Archer to Reed," he said.

"Yes sir," Major Malcolm Reed answered immediately from the bridge.

"Doctor Phlox is ready to bring Klaang out of his coma," Jonathan replied "please meet me in sickbay."

"Aye sir, I'm on my way now."

Jonathan signed off before getting up and leaving the ready room to make the relatively short journey down to sickbay. _I hope things go smoothly with Klaang_ he thought as he came to the turbolift and pressed the summoning button. After a second, the door opened with a soft hiss and he stepped inside and pressed the button for the section of the ship where sickbay was located. While he hoped things would go well with the Klingon when he came around, still he couldn't be sure it would, it paid to be prepared that was why he wanted Malcolm there. If things went badly and, Klaang decided to become unreasonably aggressive – which according to the Vulcan database could happen at the metaphorical drop of a hat with Klingons – then he would have Malcolm use his sidearm to blast the Klingon straight back into the land of nod. After which he'd be transported to the brig to be kept there under guard for the remainder of the trip.

Jonathan hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Klaang was at the end of the day a guest on his ship, a guest of his people until the point in time where he was returned to his own kind. Locking a visitor – especially one from a race that they knew little about beyond what the Vulcan's had shared with them – in the brig was not very polite to say the very least. Not to mention it would, probably not be appreciated by the honour obsessed Klingons, who would probably respond to the perceived insult violently if the Vulcan database information proved to be correct.

However if Klaang threatened his people then he wouldn't hesitate in having him thrown in the brig. It would be for the Klingons protection as well as there own, as the last thing he wanted was for, Klaang to get into a violent confrontation with any of his crew. Especially Trip or any of the other augment crewmembers on board. If that happened then there would certainly be blood on the deck plates as an angry augment was never a pretty sight.

Jonathan knew how vicious augments could get in a fight having seen Trip in a fistfight once when they'd been in the academy. As he recalled they'd been in a spacers bar in New Orleans on leave both of them semi-drunk after spending all afternoon watching a baseball game. They'd been at the bar minding their own business when they'd gotten picked on by a bunch of drunken, burly boomers who'd thought two green Starfleet cadets easy pickings for particularly violent hazing. One had thrown a punch at Trip when they'd stood up to them, and promptly, effortlessly got his fist caught by Trip's hand before getting physically picked up – despite the fact that the guy had had two inches and forty pounds on Trip – and thrown aside like a toy to wreck a table when he landed.

Had the boomers been sober they would have twigged from that display of effortless strength that Trip was both an augment and annoyed and that it would have been a good idea to back off. However they hadn't instead they had charged the both of them and the whole thing had descended into a confusing mass of shouts, kicks, flying fists and human bodies. At the end of it, they had all been hurt; though the boomers had come off the worst with some having multiple broken bones from being hurled into walls and tables repeatedly, or being on the receiving end of punches and kicks that had had the full force of Trip's engineered muscles behind them. It had been a miracle that nobody had been killed, as it was both himself and Trip had gotten very stern rebukes from both local police and their instructors and been made to help clean up the bar afterwards. The boomers for starting the fight in the first place had gotten to spend a few nights in police cells and made to pay damages to the bars owners.

Smiling but at the same time wincing at the memory of that fight Jonathan thought for a moment about the possibility of the same thing happening with Klaang minus the drunken part of course as there was no alcohol on _Enterprise_. It would not be pretty and was something to be avoided at all costs. Mentally he made a note to have a word with Trip about it. Though it wasn't his friend he was worried about, as aside from that one incident he'd never seen Trip loose his temper; but he knew Trip had considerable influence with the other augments onboard; enough perhaps to at least reduce the chances of a violent confrontation between them and Klaang to a minimum. Especially as Trip was well aware of how the faint menacing air the Klingon put off instinctively put augments on there guard.

At that moment, the turbolift came to a halt having reached the appropriate deck and section of the ship. Jon shrugged off his depressing thoughts as the door opened with a soft hiss allowing him to step out into the corridor. Leaving the lift he began walking the short distance to sickbay, all the while thinking about what he was going to say to Klaang, assuming the Klingon would be coherent enough to hold a conversation with when he woke up. _Though it is likely that he won't be,_ he thought remembering that most humanoids when coming out of a drug induced coma would often be dopey and regularly fall back asleep until the drugs left their systems, _in fact, he's probably going to be downright dopey, but we have to try to talk to him now. The last thing I want or need is for Klaang to wake up and think that he's a prisoner on this ship. The sooner he knows that he's our guest and that we're taking him home to Qo'nos the better._

Frowning thoughtfully mentally rehearsing what he was going to say to Klaang that would convince the Klingon that he was among friends Jonathan turned a corner. Ahead of him were the doors to sickbay and standing in front of them, to his complete lack of surprise, was Major Malcolm Reed. One of the things he did like about Malcolm was that he was always, always punctual. In the two weeks they'd been in space he'd never once known the younger man to be late for anything, even when he had very good reason to be late – like when on their fourth day out the turbolifts decided to breakdown meaning all the crew had to walk everywhere as well as use the emergency ladders to get between decks while Trip and his engineering teams tracked down and corrected the fault. Yet despite the inconvenience Reed had not been late for his shift on the bridge – despite the fact that his quarters were three decks below the bridge. _If only he would lighten up around me even when off duty,_ he thought thinking of Malcolm's habit of calling him sir and responding as if he had given an order even when off duty.

Mentally he shook off his thoughts about Malcolm not lightening up around him as he approached the sickbay doors and the senior MACO drew himself to attention at the sight of his commanding officer.

"Stand easy, Malcolm," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Malcolm answered shifting instantly into the position rest stance.

"Has Hoshi arrived?"

"Yes sir she went inside immediately," Malcolm replied. "Sergeant Kesler came out briefly when Ensign Sato arrived and informed me that Doctor Phlox has almost finished bringing Klaang out of his comatose state."

"Then we had better get in there then," Jon, said. "Keep a hand near your sidearm Malcolm but don't be obvious about it. If Klaang becomes aggressive then I want you to be ready to blast him back into dreamland."

"Always am, sir," Malcolm answered allowing a small smile to break through his habitually serious expression, before turning and leading the way into sickbay. Jon followed a few steps behind him, mentally bracing himself for the possible oncoming confrontation.

Immediately upon entering sickbay, Jonathan spotted Doctor Phlox, Hoshi Sato and Sergeant Alice Kesler. All three stood around the central biobed, Phlox and the field medic trained MACO conversing in soft voices as they worked to bring the Klingon out of his coma. Hoshi for her part fingered nervously with the universal translator device she was holding, periodically checking its screen. _Probably reassuring herself that she has programmed the thing with the Klingon language data the Vulcan's gave us,_ Jonathan thought.

"How is our guest doctor," Jon asked moving in front of Malcolm to approach the bed himself and look down upon the Klingon. Just like the last time he had physically seen him at Starfleet Medical the big alien projected an almost palpable aura of danger. An air that was only reinforced by being so close to the Klingon and seeing the small involuntary movements the alien was making as he rose towards consciousness.

"Klaang is emerging from his coma at an acceptable pace," Phlox replied looking over at Captain Archer. "He should regain consciousness very shortly."

"That's fast," Malcolm said speaking up while keeping a weary eye on the unconscious Klingon.

"Klingons have a considerably higher metabolic base rate than Terrans do, major," Phlox explained, momentarily looking up from his patient. "Now that the coma drugs are no longer being administered Klaang's body is rapidly overcoming their effects. He could wake at any time, though I cannot guarantee that he will be coherent enough to hold a conversation with."

"We still have to try, doctor," Jon reminded the Denobulan. "The sooner Klaang knows that we mean him no harm the better. The last thing we need is for Klaang to believe that he's a prisoner. That would only be asking for trouble."

"True," Phlox admitted knowing from his own species experiences with them how aggressive Klingons could be and how easily they could – and sometimes did – jump to conclusions and how their racial stubborn streak – which rivalled that of the Tellerites – meant they would stick to that assumption no matter what you said. "Still I thought I should warn you."

"And we appreciate it, doctor," Jon replied a moment before the comm. panel next to the diagnostic units monitor chirped for attention.

"Bridge to Captain Archer," T'Pol's emotionless, inflectionless voice said from the tiny. Jon rolled his eyes slightly. _Now what,_ he thought as he crossed to the offending device and pressed a button.

"Archer, go," he said.

"Captain the sensors have detected two unidentified alien vessels closing from astern," T'Pol reported. "They appear to be on an intercept course with us and will overtake us in approximately four minutes. We have attempted to hail them but they are not responding."

Jonathan frowned slightly in a mixture of confusion and concern. Something seriously wasn't right here they were still inside Terran Alliance controlled territory, there shouldn't be any unidentified alien ships present, let alone ones that were fast enough to catch _Enterprise_. "Go to condition two and raise our shields," he ordered after a moment, "then send hostile challenge and ID to the incoming vessels."

"Aye sir," T'Pol answered before signing off. Jonathan turned to Malcolm and Hoshi just as an alarm began to sound throughout the ship, summoning the crew to stations. Condition 2 was not a combat alert but it was a signal for a heightened state of readiness so they could go to battle stations at a moments notice if need be. He was determined not to take any chances with the unknowns, not this close to the borderlands region and the sending of a hostile challenge and identification request to the unknowns would inform them that _Enterprise_ was willing and able to defend herself should they threaten her.

"Hoshi stay here with the doctor, if our guest comes too enough to hold a conversation reassure him that we mean him no harm as much as you can then contact me," he ordered, "Malcolm come with me, I have a bad feeling about those approaching ships. We need to get back to the bridge."

"Aye sir," Hoshi acknowledged echoed a moment later by the MACO officer. Jonathan smiled slightly then his expression turning serious once again he turned and walked out of sickbay with Malcolm a few paces behind him.

The two of them had only gotten a few metres down the corridor when a slight shudder ran through the deck beneath them, a shudder that felt for all the world like the _Enterprise_ was an old fashioned ground car that had just driven over a speed bump. _What the hell,_ Jonathan thought half a second before a deep rumbling boom, like a million base drums all being hit at once, echoed through the hull and _Enterprise_ vibrated fiercely. Jon staggered, his body pulled sideways by a momentary loss of gravitational stability, his eyes widening in surprise. In his twenty-three years of service in Starfleet he'd been in battle a few times especially when he'd been a young ensign serving on the heavy cruiser _Farragut_ during the height of the Terran-Nausicaan War. As such he knew depressingly well the sound and feel of weapons fire striking the ship they were under attack presumably from the two unknown ships.

Battle stations klaxons began ringing throughout the ship, the harsh two-toned screech of the alarms reverberating off the bulkheads making it impossible to ignore. Another loud boom echoed through the hull and _Enterprise _shuddered again as another blast struck her defences. Jonathan's eyes narrowed, as he came out of his surprise and the battle-hardened soldier in him – the part of his personality that he'd hoped he'd never really have to use again – came to the fore.

"Come on," he said to Malcolm before starting to run towards the turbolift a moment the distant rumbling whoosh of torpedoes being launched echoed through the hull of the _Enterprise._

* * *

**A Few Moments Earlier**

Moving with the effortless, deadly grace of the predators that they were both Suliban stealth cruisers pounced on _Enterprise_ after having tailed her continuously since she first left the Sol system. Ignoring all the requests for identification that the startled vessels crew sent their way the Suliban closed to within just four hundred metres of their target, getting so close that all three ships jolted as their warp fields encountered each other and partially merged. With all ships now essentially inside the same subspace bubble, the Suliban moved to the next stage of their surprise attack.

Hot aquamarine javelins of disruptor fire erupted from the primary forward weapons bank of both cruisers towards the larger Starfleet ship. Being so close together that warp fields overlapped each other the beams of disruptive energy instantly crossed the distance between the Suliban and _Enterprise_. However hitting a starship moving at warp speeds was far harder than hitting one in normal space, which itself was hard enough as most ships didn't exactly sit still when engaged in combat. One of the Suliban disruptor beams went wide, slicing past the _Enterprise's_ starboard warp nacelle in a clean miss. The other beam however struck the starships port nacelle dead on, and immediately broke apart into a luminous bluish-white fog of cherenkov radiation as it encountered the starships shields. An observer would have seen the _Enterprise_ visibly shudder and a ripple of optical distortion seem to pass in a cocoon around her as the hit on top of the slight instabilities caused by the overlapping sent an oscillation wave through the warp field.

The Suliban fired again, both beams missing the nacelles that were their target, one missing cleanly once again, the other grazing the shields where they protected on of the two part pylons that connected the warp nacelle to both the primary hull – through its connection to the impulse engine nacelles – and the secondary engineering hull. As before, the energy dispersed into a glowing fog even as it revealed a slight hint of the invisible bubble now surrounding the starship, and once again, the impact caused a visible ripple in the _Enterprise's_ warp field.

Then _Enterprise _returned fire.

In rapid succession four glowing yellow-orange spheres erupted from the Starfleet vessels aft torpedo tubes and streaked towards her enemy, the salvo splitting up evenly with two of the photonic torpedoes heading for each ship. Being fired at such a close range the pilots of the two Suliban cruisers had no chance to even attempt evasion, nor did the cruisers automated point defence network have any chance of tracking and shooting the powerful weapons down. Unopposed the torpedoes slammed into their targets almost instantly detonating with searing white-hot force. Both Suliban ships visibly shuddered under the impacts their own shields flaring brilliantly as they struggled to repel nearly a hundred megatons of focused destructive force.

Angered and more than a little frustrated that their prey was proving far more resistant than anticipated – and had just reminded them that it had some very sharp teeth and claws of its own – the Suliban responded in kind. Two torpedoes erupted from each cruiser along with a rapid fire salvo of beams from their forward disruptor cannons.

The disruptor beams struck the shields protecting the _Enterprise_ first, clawing at the defensive force field with raw energy – setting the shields aglow and making the starship shudder violently. Then the Suliban photonics smashed into the already stressed shields with searing force. The shield flared nova bright under the assault, some energy breaking through the energy web of the force field to claw at duranium-monobonded carbon hull underneath.

For the Starfleet ships warp field dampeners it was to much. Already struggling to maintain warp field integrity in the face of the intense subspace interference being caused by the partial merging of warp fields and the high-energy shocks of particle weapons fire hitting shields, two of the four banks of dampeners in each nacelle overloaded and blew out.

The overload sent a massive oscillation wave along the length of each nacelle, partially tearing the stream of supercharged warp plasma running down the centre of the nacelle tubes apart. Automatic systems cut in immediately, venting the escaping plasma into space before it could fatally damage the relatively delicate warp field coils. Not that the coils were trouble free as suddenly robbed of a continuous source of power some of them – like all engines who weren't getting enough fuel – began misfiring, creating additional distortions in the warp field and sending a series of over or under pressure waves along the return conduits to the warp core.

Hopelessly desynchronised by the misfiring coils the _Enterprise's_ warp field collapsed suddenly and catastrophically. With a fierce lurch that knocked every standing crew member on board off their feet _Enterprise_ sharply decelerated out of warp speed into normal space as the subspace fields collapsed and the warp reactor automatically scrammed to prevent a sudden, massive overload that could have led to a catastrophic loss of antimatter containment.

Not that the rest of the ship was trouble free as the massive gee-forces from the sudden deceleration shot through the ship, despite the best efforts of the inertial dampeners to eliminate them, rattling components loose and fracturing circuit boards. Overloads and burnouts rippled through dozens of systems causing dozens of small electrical fires as some systems blew out. Main power flickered, threatened to fail, but stabilised as automatic systems redirected power around damaged or inoperable systems while at the same time the back up fusion reactors amped their output up to maximum to compensate as much as possible for the loss of the warp cores massive energy output.

Both Suliban cruisers dropped from warp behind the _Enterprise_ as the bigger ship coasted forward on inertia imparted by the sudden, extreme deceleration to sublight speed; and immediately got a sharp reminder that even without warp power the Terran starship was still far from helpless and was in fact still a very dangerous, very angry opponent. Fierce pinkish-red phase beams shot out from multiple cannons as _Enterprise_ defiantly hit back at her tormentors. The closer of the two stealth cruisers took a full salvo from every port phase cannon that could be brought it bear on it, its shields – never really being designed to withstand a pitched battle – flared out of existence under the barrage allowing several shots to slice into the hull. Immediately the thin energy sheathing material over the hull that was such an integral part of the vessels stealth system buckled, large sections flashing to vapour immediately allowing the remaining energy of the beams to scorch and tear into the hull metal beneath.

As its companion cruiser staggered back from the force of the Terran ships assault the other Suliban stealth ship fired on _Enterprise_ with everything it had, unleashing another pair of torpedoes as well as a full barrage from everyone of its forward disruptor cannons. Deprived of the bulk of their power by the warp core scram the _Enterprise's_ shields flared out of existence under the impact of the torpedoes allowing the disruptor shots to strike the naked metal of the hull. Blasts of disruptive energy flailed at the duranium-monobonded carbon hull of the ship, refracting off in a rainbow blaze of diffusion as hull polarisation systems reflected the heat and energy of the blasts back out into space.

However neither the hull polarisation nor the carbon mesh reinforcing the duranium hull could do anything about the kinetic impact, which sent devastating shockwaves into the interior of the staggering ship making it ring like a bell. For the damaged main power systems it was too much, several primary EPS conduits ruptured, spewing superheated plasma into dozens of compartments before EPS flow regulators detected the loss of pressure and automatically closed valves to prevent the whole system from de-pressurising. With several primary conduits now out of action until the breaches could be sealed what was left of _Enterprise's_ main power flickered and died.

Registering the sudden loss of main power on their sensors the Suliban ceased firing. In front of them, _Enterprise_ hung helpless slowly spinning in a lateral, counter-clockwise rotation from the inertia imparted by their last fierce barrage of disruptor fire. For a moment – weary of a possible trap – the Suliban scanned the _Enterprise_ thoroughly. Then satisfied that she was indeed disabled, the cruisers closed in as their crews prepared to carry out their mission to retrieve, Klaang.

* * *

**Bridge**

**TAS Enterprise**

Sub-Commander T'Pol resisted the impulse to groan as she awkwardly picked herself up off the deck in front of the command chair. Her head throbbed from where she'd been slammed to the deck by the last enemy barrage, but with the stoicism that her kind had long since mastered she ignored it. There were other more important things to consider than simple physical discomfort. With Vulcan calmness, she accessed the situation.

It was not encouraging.

The bridge around her was in semi-darkness lit only by dull blue emergency lights and the flickering yellow-orange glow of a fire near one of the auxiliary consoles at the back of the bridge. Squinting in the smoke filled gloom she could just see that the crew on duty had survived. Moreover they were like her picking themselves up off the floor where they'd been hurled as the ship shuddered in agony under the impact of that last barrage of disruptor fire.

"Damage report," she ordered as one of the recovered junior officers grabbed a fire extinguisher from a slot on a bulkhead and began tackling the fire, snuffing it out in under a stream of high-pressure fire fighting gas.

"Main powers out," Lieutenant Collins reported from the engineering/damage control station. "Warp and impulse engines are down we're in an uncontrolled lateral spin. The warp core has scrammed and secondary fusion reactors are down as well, we won't be getting main power back for awhile. We have multiple electrical and plasma fires throughout the ship, automatic fire suppression systems are coming back online and responding. Weapons and shields are inoperative, we're sitting ducks. Hull polarisation is off line and we've got some minor thermokinetic damage to the outer hull."

"Try and get the shields and weapons back online," T'Pol instructed before turning to Ensign Mayweather. She was pleasantly surprised to find that he had already anticipated her orders and was using the manoeuvring thrusters to begin correcting the ships spin. After a moment she realised she shouldn't really be surprised, not only was surprise an emotion that Vulcans weren't supposed to experience but if she'd learned anything in her two weeks on this ship it was that the crew were competent and very good at their jobs.

"Where are the enemy ships," she asked looking over at Lieutenant Powell who'd taken Major Reeds place after the captain had called the MACO away from the bridge.

"Enemy vessels appear to be moving to flank us, sir," Powell replied. "However they do not appear to be manoeuvring into docking positions."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow thoughtfully as she sat back down in the command chair. If the alien ships that had just attacked them were not manoeuvring into dock then what were they doing. Logic suggested that they were doing something. Was it possible that their unknown antagonists were part of the small group of races who possessed transporter technology? It was a logical answer, the aliens if they intended to board were going to transport over.

"Alert all security teams," she ordered. "Tell them to prepare to repel…" her voice trailed off as a new sound made its presence known. A strange humming whining sound that she did not recognise, a moment later a shimmering wall of blue-white energy came through the far bulkhead and began to sweep across the bridge. As it washed over crew they immediately began to slump to the deck or over their consoles unconscious. _Some kind of immobiliser beam,_ she thought a moment before the wave washed over her of its way through the ship. Immediately a tremendous weakness hit her limbs and she slumped back in the command chair. It felt as though someone had just attached solid duranium weights to her limbs as she suddenly couldn't even martial the strength to move even a finger.

Darkness began to encroach upon her vision and seemingly, from far away she heard the familiar whine of transporter beams. Out the corner of her eye, she faintly saw a greenish column appear as one of there unknown antagonists began to materialise on the bridge. Then darkness descended on her like a unstoppable smothering blanket and she knew no more.

* * *

**Engineering**

**TAS Enterprise, A Few Moments Later**

Commander Charles Tucker the Third, groaned softly as consciousness returned. Slowly he opened his eyes to find himself lying face down on one of the catwalks that ran down the port and starboard sides of the warp core, allowing engineers and technicians to directly monitor and do repairs on the huge antimatter reactor as necessary. For a moment, he lay where he was in confusion, wondering what on Earth he was doing flat out on the deck, with only the transparent aluminium visor of the bulky radiation proof suit and helmet he was wearing between his face and the rough mesh decking.

Then he remembered.

About ten minutes ago he'd come in here with two other members of the engineering staff to begin running some routine checks on the core and take direct readings from the plasma manifolds to ensure everything was working properly after the strain of nearly two full weeks at maximum. They'd just started running the first checks when the ship had been shaken first by something that felt like an odd oscillation in the warp field and then by repeated blasts of weapons fire. Though it had been a few years since he'd been in a fight on a starship he – like his friend and commanding officer – remembered depressingly well the sound and feel of a ship under attack.

Vaguely he remembered starting to run to get back to the engineering control room as the battle stations alarm sounded. Only to be knocked off his feet by a violent jolt. He remembered getting back up only to see smoke and sparks shoot out of the junction boxes for some of the warp field dampeners and seeing the blue glow of the warp reactor flicker and die. Before he'd been able to react there had been a shock so violent that he'd been thrown into the bulkhead hard enough that neither his helmet nor his engineered physiology had been able to prevent him from being knocked out.

Shaking his head to clear some residual disorientation he awkwardly sat up and looked around. Three things immediately jumped out at him. One was that it was dark, the only illumination was coming from dull blue emergency lighting that reflected weirdly and dimly off the dark metal cylinder of the warp reactor. Two that in was dead quiet, there was not even a subtle vibration in the metal beneath him like there would normally be, the ship had to be at a dead stop in space. And three that sprawled on the catwalk next to him was one of the other two men who'd come in here with him. The other had been on the other catwalk on the opposite side to the reactor and impossible to see from his current position in such low light. While he could see better in low light than a normal could even his eyes had their limits is such low light and with the shadow being cast by the dark and ominously silent warp reactor.

Awkwardly he stood up, swaying as a wave of dizziness washed through his head almost making him fall over again. After a moment, it passed and he cautiously moved over to the other man on this particular catwalk and turned him over. The other man – that he belatedly recognised as Crewman Falkland, a warp systems specialist – appeared to be unconscious but otherwise unhurt, obviously like him Falkland had been slammed hard into the bulkhead, but lacking the greater regenerative abilities of an augment hadn't yet recovered enough to regain consciousness.

With a sigh Trip realised he was going to be alone for a bit. _Guess I better find out what the hell happened, who the hell attacked us and get some help in here,_ he thought as he operated a control on the right arm of his radiation suit, activating its built in comm. unit.

"Tucker to control," he said calling the engineering control room just a few metres to his right beyond the armoured bulkhead that separated it from the core. There was no reply beyond a faint buzz of static. "Tucker to control please respond," he said again. Once again, there was no response beyond static. Frowning in concern and confusion, he tried a different tactic.

"Tucker to bridge, respond," he said hoping they would answer. But as with engineering control, there was no response at all from the bridge. _Something is very wrong here, Trip,_ he thought to himself, before once again trying a different tactic. "All hands this is Commander Tucker if you can hear me please respond."

Once again there came no response to his entreaties which meant that either the comm. system was down or the crew were unable to answer for some reason. _Maybe we're repelling boarders, shit better get out their and organise the defence of engineering if we've been boarded,_ he thought before stepping over Falkland's almost motionless form and started walking along the gantry back towards the thick, shielded door that separated the core chamber from the engineering control room.

Arriving at the heavy door, he carefully operated the controls, which wasn't exactly easy in the bulky gloves of the radiation suit. _Wish we could work in here without wearing these things,_ he thought, _would make life so much easier._ After a few moments, the door control panel bleeped and with a hiss of releasing hydraulic pressure, the door slowly opened.

Trip's eyes widened when standing on the opposite side of the door was an alien. It was humanoid but completely bald with yellow skin whose dimpled appearance reminded him of the surface of an orange. It was dressed in a maroon coloured jumpsuit and had a weapon holstered at its side. Completing the uniform the alien was wearing was a belt with a series of metal discs that Trip recognised as implosion explosives. For a second he and the alien stared at each other in surprise, then the alien emitted a high-pitched cry of alarm and its hand shot towards its weapon.

Before he really realised what he was doing Trip burst into action. With one hand, he grabbed the alien's wrist before it could completely draw its weapon. Holding the wrist in his hand he squeezed as hard as he could pitting bone against muscle which would force the alien to drop the weapon, instantly the alien emitted a screech of pain as Trip's five times normal human strength crushed some of the finer bones in its wrist with a harsh series of cracks. The weapon clattered to the floor, Trip paid it no mind as he released the wrist and instead quickly punched the alien in the chest, ripping the wind from its lungs with a loud whumph, and then as the alien reflexively started to double over he grabbed it again. Before in a judo move hurled the alien over his shoulder and released him. The alien flew through the air, bounced between the side of the reactor core and the bulkhead wall on three occasions before collapsing into a heap on the floor at the far end of the gantry, unconscious or dead.

Trip paid the alien no further attention the confrontation having told him two things. First that he had been right about _Enterprise_ having been boarded by whoever had attacked them, second that those aliens had done something to disable the crew so they could move through the vessel without having to confront the ships security teams backed up by their larger than normal contingent of MACO's. They had to have done something to quickly neutralise the two hundred plus crew everyone but him that was, for some reason he was awake and able to fight back. He doubted that his augment physiology had something to do with it, or at least wasn't the main reason why he was awake and not in dreamland like the rest of the crew. There were after all a number of others of his kind aboard this ship, especially in MACO contingent, if the extra strengths provided by their kinds engineered physiology was the reason for him being awake they would be as well and would have moved to secure both the bridge and engineering even if the comm was down. Some other factor had to be at work.

After a moment, he mentally shrugged, whatever the reason was he couldn't think about it right now. There were other things to worry about, like the fact that _Enterprise_ had been attacked and boarded by unknown forces. Forces that he was willing to bet belonged to the same unknown alien race that had forced Klaang's ship down on Earth and chased said Klingon through the Oklahoma cornfields in an attempt to kill him. If it was they then they were obviously here for the Klingon, and probably didn't care who got between him and them. _Just what have we gone and gotten ourselves into,_ he thought, _whatever it is doesn't matter right now though, Trip. Right now just deal with the situation in front of you._ _Do your duty as a soldier and officer of the Terran Alliance Starfleet, your ship has been disabled and boarded. Deal with it._

Mentally standing up straighter, his course of action clear in his mind, he was about to cross into engineering control proper when a soft groan from behind him caught his attention. Spinning around he looked back along the gantry and saw that Falkland was starting to sit up. Relieved that he was at least have help he moved back towards the other man.

"Falkland you okay," he asked.

"Yeah boss I'm fine," Falkland, answered shaking his head. "What happened?"

"We've been attacked," Trip replied. "Most if not all of the crew are unconscious and we've obviously been boarded," at Falkland's questioning look he pointed at the alien he'd just tangled with.

Jeffery Falkland looked where Trip was pointing and blinked when he saw the yellow skinned alien lying motionless on the deck. From his vantage point, he could clearly see that the alien's neck was twisted at such an odd angle by some powerful impact that it could only be dead. Guessing what had happened he winced and almost wished that he hadn't been awake to see it. Though it was common knowledge among the engineering crews that there boss was an augment it was rare for them to see him use the full scope of his abilities particularly his strength. Strength had obviously been used to throw the alien – who looked to weigh at least a hundred kilos – down the length of the reactor core like a toy.

"Ouch," he said. "You really did a number on him boss."

Trip shrugged. "He tried to pull a weapon on me," he said before offering Falkland a hand to help him stand up.

"That was a stupid move," Jeff commented with a grin as he accepted the offered help in getting back to his feet. He was fully aware of the full extent of augment abilities and everything that came along with those enhanced abilities, his best friend from high school who was now his sisters husband was one after all.

"It was a bit," Trip agreed. "But then so was attacking and boarding this ship in the first place. Come on lets see if we can wake up the rest of the engineering crew, its likely that the increased shielding around this part of the ship has reduced the effectiveness of whatever it was that our uninvited guests used to stun the crew."

Jeff nodded in agreement. "Likely," he said. "So we try and wake up the engineering crew then what?"

Trip's smile was predatory as he replied. "Then we show these aliens why it was a very bad idea to attack and board this ship."

Jeff's grin matched his bosses at the thought of getting payback on those who had attacked them. Assuming of course they could awaken the rest of the engineering crew there were a number of things they could do against the hostiles without harming the rest of the crew. Things like remotely closing the ships internal bulkhead doors, sealing off entire sections of the ship. Designed to be used in the event of a hull breach or god forbid a fire once closed the bulkheads were completely airtight and almost impregnable by small arms – the aliens would have to use fusion cutters to break through. Even with fusion cutter's it would take time to break through as the emergency bulkhead doors were made of the same duranium-monobonded carbon material as the ships hull, just a little bit thinner.

He was jolted out of his thoughts as he and Trip crossed into the engineering control room proper, and had to sharply duck as with a screech like a banshee a brilliant blue-green energy beam struck the bulkhead next to them causing a spray of sparks and a thick puff of smoke. Diving to the side Jeff looked in the direction the beam had come from, to see another of the yellow skinned, bald headed aliens in the open doorway to the rest of the ship. The alien fired at them again though the beam went wide and just struck the decking in front of one of the consoles eliciting another spray of sparks and a smoke as well as filing the air with the acrid stink of singed metal.

The alien fired again it immediately became obvious to both engineers that the alien couldn't see them that well in the dim lighting and the deep shadows it was casting. Another disruptor beam sliced through the air and struck one of the still unconscious engineers sprawled on the floor. The unfortunate engineer's body shook and lit up from within with a deadly surge of blue-green energy, the horrid stench of burning meat filled the air and then the engineer was gone, disintegrated so completely that not even ash remained.

"Carter," Jeff cried out in rage and grief at the sight of one of his friends murdered right in front of his eyes. Immediately he had to duck down lower as a beam shot his way, it missed the back of his radiation suit by mere millimetres, coming so close that he imagined he could feel the heat on his back despite the suits thermal shielding. _Jesus that was close,_ he thought a second before he heard a howl of pain followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the deck.

Risking a look up, he saw that the alien was clutching at its arm, its weapon on the floor next to a heavy wrench that had obviously struck the aliens gun arm, making it drop the weapon. Though he couldn't see the alien's facial features clearly in the gloom, he could imagine them screwed up in pain as unless the aliens bones were made of duranium the bone would have would be broken from the impact. _Serves you right you murderous bastard,_ he thought as Trip pounced on the alien, taking it around the waist in a classic football tackle.

The angered augment and the alien hit the deck with a loud, bone-jarring thud that made Jeff reflexively wince in sympathy. _That must have hurt,_ he thought as the Trip pulled back slightly and delivered a powerful – but not full strength punch – to the aliens jaw. It was obvious that despite the fact that that he was mad as hell Jeff's boss wasn't trying to kill the alien but rather wanted him alive, presumably so he could be interrogated once they took the ship back. It said a lot for Charles Tucker that he could remain clear headed enough to think so well even when enraged by the death of one of his people. Not all augments could think that rationally when they lost their tempers, in that regard there wasn't really that much difference between a normal and an augment.

Amazingly, the alien seemed unaffected by the punch, aside from giving a yelp of pain and anger at the impact. Jeff blinked slightly in amazement, if Trip had hit him like that he would have surely broken his jaw yet this alien was seemingly shrugging it off. Then something happened that he could barely believe. In a move that seemed biologically impossible, the aliens uninjured arm seemed to dislocate itself at the shoulder, pull back in a weird arc before the alien used it to slam a punch into the side of Trip's helmeted head. The blow struck with enough force that the augment engineer got batted side while crying out in a mixture of pain, surprise and disbelief as the side of his head hit the side of the helmet even as the rest of his body hit the bulkhead hard.

With amazing agility – that was surprising even to someone who was used to augments – the alien moved to the side, retrieved its weapon and got back to its feet. Horror gripped Jeff as he watched the alien soldier start to aim the powerful weapon at Trip – who was struggling to recover from the aliens punch knocking him against the bulkhead. Only the fact that he'd still been wearing a radiation suit had protected him from being knocked unconscious or worse, as it was he'd been merely rendered almost senseless. _Oh, no, you don't you alien bastard,_ he thought, _you're not murdering another friend right in front of me._

Before he even realised what he was doing, Jeff emitted a loud battle cry, leapt to his feet with adrenaline-fuelled speed grabbing a fusion torch from a convenient equipment trolley and bringing it to bear on the alien as he did so. The alien looked over at him, its attention grabbed by the primal sound of the battle cry, and suddenly seemed to realise he was the bigger threat than the dazed Trip. The weapon started to be brought to bear on him, he could imagine the alien fingers starting to tighten on the trigger.

He fired the fusion torch.

A brilliant purple-white spear of plasma – eye tearing bright against the gloom – erupted from the tip of the cylindrical device. The blast of superheated plasma smashed instantly into the aliens torso, designed to cut through duranium and other high technology alloys the aliens clothing and body was no barrier to the plasma beam. In less than an instant, the beam burned right through the aliens clothing, body, and shot out the other side, the alien screamed a raw throated yell of agony that ended in a gurgling sound. The plasma beam cut off as Jeff released the control stud. The already dead alien shook in place for half a second, muscles going into spasm as the massive electromagnetic shock raced through its nervous system. Then it toppled over backwards and lay still on the deck, a faint line of steam rising from the neat fist-sized hole that had been burrowed right through its body.

The fusion torch dropped from Jeff's suddenly nerveless fingers as the adrenaline surge faded away. A sick feeling began to well within him as he realised what it was that he'd just done. _I… I killed him,_ he thought staring at the lifeless, softly steaming alien body in a sort of disbelieving, frozen horror. He'd never killed anyone or anything before, he'd never even killed an insect as a child. He found himself unable to look away from the body, it was all he could do not to throw up inside his radiation suit.

A hand waving in front of his face, and the feeling of another hand on his arm brought him out of his dazed state. Blinking he turned his head and found himself looking into Trip's face, there was a look of understanding and gratitude in his eyes.

"I…" Jeff started to say.

"I know," Trip answered his voice soft. "You had no choice, you saved my life. Thank you." Not trusting himself to be able to speak properly yet, Jeff merely nodded and from the look in his bosses, eyes knew that Trip fully understood what he was feeling.

After a second more, Trip patted his shoulder. "Come on, Jeff," he said, Jeff blinked slightly he'd never heard Trip use his given name before. "We've got work to do, start trying to wake up the rest of the engineering crew while I close up that bulkhead. We're not out of this yet."

"Yeah, yeah right," Jeff replied mentally shaking himself and moving away from his boss and friend towards the closest unconscious engineer, who just happened to be Lieutenant Kelby. As he squatted down in front of him and started to try to shake him awake, he heard the sound of Trip's footfalls on the decking.

For a moment, he looked back at the door, and saw the alien lying there dead but only for a moment then the thick armoured door closed and locked as Trip operated the controls. Jeff blinked and looked back at Kelby, forgetting for now what he'd just done. However, he knew somehow that it wouldn't last, that eventually he would see that dead alien again and feel the guilt over ending its life. Though as Trip had said he'd had no choice, it was either the alien or his boss, it didn't stop him from feeling guilt over taking the aliens life. He hoped it would go away eventually.

But he had the strangest feeling that it never would.

* * *

**Bridge**

**Suliban Stealth Cruiser Dra'can**

**A Few Moments Later**

Commander Valik sat in thoughtful silence as he studied the Terran vessel floating on his view screen bathed in the soft greenish-grey light of tractor beams. The design was a novel one, elegant and functional at the same time, optimised for both speed and endurance – something his engineers could well attest too. _Enterprise_ had not been at all easy to catch having maintained warp five for the better part of two standard weeks forcing them to really push their own engines to catch up with her while maintaining full stealth as if the starship had spotted them it would have been the end of the mission and any hope of recovering Klaang.

Valik hadn't minded too much, it had been a few years since he'd last had a challenge like this. Being the commanding officer of a stealth cruiser, he hadn't really been involved in the campaign to start a civil war in the Klingon Empire, beyond the occasional reconnaissance mission. Dodging Klingon patrols was relatively easy for his people their stealth technology was virtually impervious to Klingon sensors, so there had been little challenge to it. Certainly not the challenge that keeping up with and disabling _Enterprise_ had been as while the Terrans were less advanced technologically than the Suliban they were still a very formidable and capable enemy who didn't go down without a fight.

A fact that they'd proven when they'd ambushed _Enterprise_. The Terran vessel had fought back hard, severely damaging the _Shan'var_ and dropping the _Dra'can's _shields to thirty-five percent before being overpowered. Due to the damage both ships had sustained getting back to the Helix without being followed or intercepted along the way was not going to be easy.

"Status of boarding parties," he ordered after a moments more contemplation of _Enterprise _and the problem of getting back to the Helix in one piece.

"Team one on the bridge is reporting that they are having considerable difficulty accessing the _Enterprise's_ main computer system," the communications officer reported. "It's protected by surprisingly complex, multi-layered encryption codes. Teams two and three report they've secured the area around the medical facilities, our stun pulse appears to have been effective as all crew encountered so far appear to be unconscious.

"Team four has entered the medical facility and have retrieved, Klaang, they will be transporting back aboard shortly," the officer continued, then frowned. "Team five aren't responding, however they were detailed to place implosion charges on _Enterprise's_ warp reactor system. It's possible that the thicker shielding around the engineering compartments is interfering with communications."

"Possibly," Valik said feeling a sudden premonition drop on him like a cold blanket. He had a feeling that the reason the team wasn't responding had nothing whatsoever to do with the thick metal alloys used to shield warp reactors and warp plasma conduits blocking their comm. signals.

"Sensors scan the _Enterprise's _engineering hull," he ordered, "find team fives bio-signs."

"Yes, commander," the sensor officer replied and carried out the command. For a few moments, there was silence as invisible beams of energy reached out from the _Dra'can's_ main sensor array and scanned the engineering hull of the Terran vessel. "Commander we're not picking up team fives bio-signs."

"The alloys shielding the engineering section could be blocking our scans," Vice Commander Domar suggested.

"Negative, Vice Commander," sensors reported. "We're getting scans of the engine core and surrounding compartments. They are somewhat blurred by the increased shielding and higher ambient radiation levels around the core itself. We're also detecting Terran bio-signs in the compartments around the core, however team five's bio-signs are not registering."

"Are you saying that the crew in the engineering sections are awake and that they've killed team five," Domar asked.

"Yes, Vice Commander. It does appear that way."

"How is that possible," Domar demanded to know. "The stun pulse should have disabled all non-Suliban on that ship."

"It's possible that the core shielding blocked the stun pulses effects," Valik suggested. "It has happened before, Domar as you know. There are some forms of shielding that the stun pulse cannot penetrate or not completely penetrate that could be what has happened here."

"Possibly," Domar admitted reluctantly. "So what do we do now, _Enterprise_ must be destroyed if we are to completely conceal that we have been here."

Valik frowned thoughtfully, while it had not been in the actual orders from Commander Silik destroying _Enterprise_ would have been good practice. It would have made certain that there were no witnesses left behind who could possibly attest to what they'd done and possibly alert the Terrans and through them the Vulcans that they were the ones behind the unrest in the Klingon Empire. Destroying the Terran vessel by placing implosion charges on the reactor system would have completely covered their tracks as it would have made it look like the ship had suffered a sudden and catastrophic loss of antimatter containment to anyone who came to investigate why the ship had not reached Klingon space. Unfortunately, it didn't look like they were going to be able to simulate a warp core breach now.

Which meant that there was only one real way to destroy _Enterprise_, and that was to target her with photonic torpedoes and destroy her with there detonations. The problem with that would be that photonic weapons left debris behind, quite a bit of it, debris that could be analysed by investigators to determine how the ship was destroyed. Debris that could also possibly contain intact data recorders that would reveal just who it was who had destroyed Starfleet's newest ship, which could only garner the Suliban a new enemy, unfortunately there was no other way left open to them.

Valik started to open his mouth to order the ordinance officer to rearm photonic torpedoes and target _Enterprise_, when the sensors came to life with an urgent warning tone. "What is it," he asked.

"Commander long range scanners have detected a group of ships approaching at high warp," sensors reported. "They're on an intercept course. Warp signatures are Terran, the phase variance matches what we observed being generated by the engines on several of the cruiser and destroyer-type ship's we detected leaving or entering orbit of the Terran homeworld. Scans reveal three warships, one light cruiser and two heavy destroyers."

"Time to intercept," Valik asked in justified concern. The _Dra'can_ and their companion ship _Shan'var_ were stealth cruisers they weren't really equipped to engage in direct combat against dedicated warships, and he was fully conscious of that fact and that fact that they'd only succeeded against _Enterprise_ due to superior numbers and the element of surprise and even then they'd taken considerable damage before successfully subduing her. Going up against three warships would be tantamount to committing suicide as between them the three Terran warships would easily possess the firepower to destroy both of his ships without breaking a sweat.

"Four minutes, thirty-five seconds," sensors reported. "We're picking up long range scanner beams coming from the lead ship, sweeping the area. They've seen us. All three ships increasing speed, time to intercept now two minutes."

Valik silently groaned in annoyance. That was nowhere near enough time to retrieve, Klaang and completely cover there tracks. _We'll have to just be satisfied with retrieving, Klaang and taking him back to the Helix,_ he thought.

"Communications order all boarding parties to return to the ship immediately," he ordered.

"And what about _Enterprise_," Domar asked. "We should target her with photonic torpedoes and destroy her."

"Destroying _Enterprise_ is no longer an achievable goal, Domar," Valik replied. "The incoming ships would easily detect the torpedoes before they impacted _Enterprise_ if we fired them now. It would only motivate them to pursue us and destroy us in retribution. Our engines have already sustained some damage from attempting to keep up with _Enterprise_ and the temporary merger of our warp field with theirs, which means we will not be able to outrun the incoming ships in a straight chase.

"Therefore to make a clean escape and evade destruction we have to distract those ships. Leaving _Enterprise_ in her current state, adrift, completely helpless should provide an appropriate distraction. Don't you agree?"

"Yes commander."

"Good now bring the boarding parties back onboard, and make sure they bring the Klingon with them. Navigation as soon as they aboard take us to warp, destination Helix Zero Two Four."

"Yes commander."

* * *

**Bridge**

**TAS Exeter**

**A Few Minutes Earlier**

Captain Tanya Morganstone glanced over at her communications officer, as the young Hispanic ensign tried once again to contact the _Enterprise._ Though she kept her features calm, she was worried about Jonathan Archer and his crew and had been ever since there long range scanners had detected strange energy surges on _Enterprise's_ filed flight path, which had been forwarded to all border patrol units by Starfleet Command. Her concern had only grown when _Enterprise_ abruptly dropped to sublight speeds in the middle of nowhere, she'd immediately ordered her ship along with the _Ajax_ and the _Achilles_ to alter course to intercept _Enterprise_, and ordered Ensign Rivera to attempt to contact her.

"Anything," she asked.

"No, ma'am," Ensign Miguel Rivera answered. "Still no response from _Enterprise_ on any channel, they're receiving us, I'm getting an automatic acknowledgement from their comm. array. There just not answering."

"I think I know why," Lieutenant Hall said from tactical. "Sensors have detected two unidentified alien vessels flanking, _Enterprise_. There holding her in tractor beams. One of the vessels is showing signs of heavy damage. Sensors also reveal that _Enterprise's_ power emissions are way down on what they should be and we're not detecting a warp signature. It looks like her warp drive has scrammed."

Tanya frowned. That could only mean one thing, the energy discharges they'd detected had been weapons fire aimed at _Enterprise's_ nacelles. Fire that could have forced her to violently revert back to sublight speed and caused her warp reactor to scram to prevent the plasma backwash from causing a potentially catastrophic overload. _Enterprise_ had been attacked likely by the two unknown ships, though it was equally obvious that Archer hadn't gone down easily but had kicked and screamed the whole way.

"Condition one," she ordered sharply her eyes narrowing. She didn't care who the aliens who'd attacked _Enterprise_ were, she didn't care to know that. All she knew was that Jonathan and his crew needed her and that she was going to make the aggressors pay for their actions – with their lives if needs be. "All hands to battle stations and increase speed to maximum warp. Ensign Rivera advise the _Ajax _and _Achilles_ to do the same."

"Yes, ma'am," Rivera answered as klaxons began to wail throughout the ship summoning the Minerva-class light cruisers crew of a hundred and seventeen Starfleet personnel to race to their battle stations while there twenty five strong detachment of MACO's hurried to don combat armour ready for possible boarding actions. The bridge lights dimmed slightly as engineering began redirecting power to the ships weapons systems and shield generators.

"Captain the unknown vessels have just disengaged their tractor beams," Hall reported. "There moving away from _Enterprise_, warp engines are powering up." His console chirped again. "They've gone to warp both ships are moving away at warp four."

"Status of _Enterprise,_" Tanya asked.

"There still adrift in space," Hall answered. "Minimal power readings, however our sensors are picking up life signs on board. They appear to be mostly unconscious. Sensors reveal moderate damage to the warp nacelles and some thermo-kinetic damage to the outer hull."

Tanya scowled slightly torn about what to do. The alien vessels had obviously gotten whatever it was they wanted from _Enterprise_ and just left the ship adrift in space, presumably, they'd detected her squadron approaching and realised that she'd run them down and show them no mercy if they'd destroyed _Enterprise._ By leaving, the other ship intact though they'd left her with something of a dilemma.

On one hand she wanted to pursue the aliens and explain to them that, no one got away with attacking a Terran vessel and that the consequences of doing so were dire indeed. On the other hand however _Enterprise_ was adrift and nearly powerless, her crew unconscious and in desperate need of assistance, assistance that she was bound by duty, tradition and honour to provide. _Of course, I could do both,_ she thought, _I do have three ships after all._

"Ensign Rivera contact the _Ajax _and _Achilles_ tell them to pursue the alien vessels at a distance. Under no circumstances are they to engage the aliens, just follow them until we can join them," she ordered. "Advise them that until that time we will be assisting _Enterprise_."

"Yes ma'am," Rivera answered before relaying the orders to their companion ships, "orders acknowledged ma'am. They'll pursue the aliens and not engage them unless threatened." His console chimed softly and a smile appeared on his face. "Ma'am we're being hailed by the _Enterprise_. There's a Commander Tucker on the line, says he's the chief engineer."

"Put him on screen," Tanya ordered hoping that they were about to get some answers as to what exactly had happened here. She kept her eyes focused on the high resolution screen at the front of the bridge as it changed from the familiar view of stars streaking past at warp speed to showing the face and shoulders of an unfamiliar but handsome man in a Starfleet issue radiation suit, though the helmet had been removed.

"Commander Tucker," Tanya asked and got a subtle nod in acknowledgement. "I'm Captain Tanya Morganstone of the _Exeter_. We're two minutes from your position. What's your status over there?"

"Not good I'm afraid, ma'am," Tucker replied straightening slightly on the screen, moving to attention. "Most of the crew are still unconscious. Everyone in engineering is awake though some of my people are somewhat groggy. Main powers out all over the ship, our uninvited guests have departed so I've sent Lieutenant Kelby and some people down to deck eleven to restart the pulse fusion generators and Lieutenant Hess has taken some others to start sealing the breaches in our EPS grid. We should have partial main power back in a couple of minutes."

"Stand easy, commander," Tanya instructed. "We saw the alien ships leave and I've sent my other two ships in pursuit. Do you know who they were and why they attacked you?"

"Yes and no, ma'am," Tucker answered. "As to how they were I don't know, they were not the best conversationalists I've ever met. The two I directly encountered tried to kill me and some of my people when they saw we were awake, I dealt with one of them and Crewman Falkland shot the other with a fusion torch." _Ouch,_ Tanya though inwardly wincing at the though of being killed by the plasma beam from a fusion torch, it would be a painful way to die but like death by phase beam it would be mercifully quick.

"What do you mean you dealt with one," she asked curiously.

"I ugh kind of hit him once or twice before throwing him down the length of the engine core. He hit the core and the bulkheads a few times before coming to a stop. One of the impacts snapped his/its neck," Tucker answered. "Though I was lucky I caught the alien by surprise, whoever they are there bloody tough even by my kinds standards, and their joints must be really weird giving what the second alien did.

"As to what the aliens wanted well that's obvious given who's missing from our internal sensor feeds."

"And who is that?"

"Klaang, he's gone," Tucker, informed her. Tanya frowned, that was not good news. Like many of the frontier squadron commanders she'd been made aware of _Enterprise's_ mission to return Klaang to the Klingon Empire, though viewed in the context of Klaang being either taken from _Enterprise_ or killed the alien attack made sense. _The aliens who attacked __Enterprise__ are the same ones who forced Klaang down on Earth and tried to eliminate him,_ she thought recalling the briefing Starfleet Command had given her like all frontier squadron commanders on the exact nature of _Enterprise's _mission.

"I see," she said at last. "That's not good."

"No its not," Tucker agreed.

"We'll get him back soon enough," Tanya said after a moment. "Whoever these aliens are they're not going to escape, not until we've both taken back Klaang and informed them that they cannot attack one of our ships without incurring the most serious of consequences."

"That's good to hear," Tucker replied with a smile.

"In the meantime though we will be coming to assist you," Tanya said calmly. "We'll be at your location very shortly. Which of your airlocks are intact?"

"All of them," Tucker replied. "Our uninvited visitors never touched them instead they used transporter technology to board this ship. However if your asking which airlock would be best used docking I'd say use the forward starboard docking port given that our port nacelle has been damaged by disruptor fire."

"Understood. As soon as we drop out of warp we'll manoeuvre to dock with your forward starboard airlock."

On the screen, the engineer nodded. "I'll send somebody up there to meet your emergency teams as they come onboard," he said.

"Very well. In the meantime commander, concentrate your repair efforts on getting your main power systems back online," Tanya instructed.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good luck," Tanya added. "I'll see you in person very shortly, commander. _Exeter _out." As she spoke, she nodded to Ensign Rivera in a non-verbal command to close the communications link with _Enterprise_. Immediately Commander Tucker's face vanished from the view screen and the view of stars streaking by at warp returned, though it would only be for a few more moments as the background humming of the warp engines was changing pitch as the ship slowed down ready to drop back to sublight speeds and the full effects of Einsteinium space-time.

"Mr Pierce," Tanya said to her helmsman. "As soon as we drop out of warp manoeuvre us into dock with the _Enterprise's_ forward starboard airlock. Mr Hall have all hands stand down from battle stations and prepare to commence rescue and recovery operations."

"Yes ma'am."

As her crew carried out their assigned tasks, Tanya leaned back in her command chair and thought about what had just happened. Whoever they were the aliens who'd attacked _Enterprise_ had either had to have been desperate or very brazen to have attacked before she left Terran space and crossed into the volatile borderlands. Clearly there was something about Klaang, something that was so important that they would be willing to take such a big risk when it would have been easier to wait until _Enterprise_ was deep into the borderlands and out of range of any easy help from the rest of Starfleet.

_Whatever their reason is we'll find out soon enough,_ she thought before turning her attention back to the view screen which now showed the disabled _Enterprise _hanging dead in space. _Once we've helped Jonathan and his crew get back on their feet we'll run their attackers down and find out exactly what the hell is going on here. And then the aliens will pay dearly for their unprovoked attack_.

She would make sure of that personally.


End file.
